Daughter of Leda
by Andarte
Summary: Hermione grew up as the daughter of a long line of muggles. She didn't know that once upon a time her mother's family came from a long line of witches. What happens when one witch foresaw the magic skipping generations? M for later chapters. Slight AU/AR.
1. Chapter 1

_This is a story I've been working on for awhile and posting over on . I've decided to start posting it here – though this version will be edited slightly for content to be more suitable for this site._

_I hope that everyone will enjoy this fic, and I love any and all feedback on it!_

"Can you believe it, mum?" asked Hermione indignantly. She had just arrived home a couple weeks before and had been telling her mother about all the things that had happened that year. Jane Granger was always happy to hear about what her daughter did away from home, and Hermione had found that she enjoyed telling her.

That day, however, Hermione was concerned by the expression on her mother's face. Her skin had paled and her eyes widened, and she was fumbling around the kitchen for a minute as she seemed to gather her thoughts. "Sit down at the table and wait for me, Hermione. I'll be right back."

It only took a few minutes, but to Hermione it seemed like hours. She wasn't sure what she could have said to exact that sort of a reaction from her other. But then, perhaps it was something else entirely. For the girl that Severus Snape had dubbed 'an insufferable know-it-all,' _not_ knowing was enough to drive her insane. Usually when she ran into these problems she could go find a book to look up the answer, but now it seemed she had no option but to wait.

When her mother came back downstairs she sat down opposite Hermione and set a small wooden box on the table. "What is wrong?" asked Hermione, growing steadily more impatient.

"Do you remember," her mother said slowly, "when you were younger and I told you that Hermione was an old family name?"

"Yes," said Hermione. _Where is she going with this?_

"I told you that I would tell you more when you are older, and I guess now is the time. I am a muggle, and more or less so were my parents and their parents before them. My great-grandmother, though, was not. I was told the story as a girl, and reminded of it by my mother before she died, but never really believed until you received your Hogwart's acceptance letter. This is something I have never even mentioned to your father."

"Why now?" asked Hermione. "And what did I say to make you so upset."

"I'm getting to that," her mother said dismissively, opening the box and leafing through its contents. "My great-grandmother was a witch, and from my understanding a rather well respected one. It has always amused me how much you detest divination, because it was at that which Leda excelled most."

Hermione could only stare at her mother for a moment, stunned. She took the letter her mother offered her and opened it slowly.

_To my daughter, though there be generations separating us—_

_I have seen how the magic in our line skips generations, and I hope when you receive this letter that you have already been exposed to the magic world. Before you wonder, as I would surely do, I must assure you that there are no others that have read this letter. I placed many charms on these pages so that different words would show for different people, but you my dear are the only one in which I wish to impart true knowledge._

_You will have heard, I am sure, that I have a fairly good reputation among our kind, and it is that reputation that I hope will ease your transition and aid in the task which you will be given. Playing with the future is a tricky thing, and I am under no illusion that my present actions are doing anything other than tampering with it. I have seen several possible outcomes, and it is my hope that my actions lead you towards the proper one rather than taking you further away. If there are things I fail to tell you then know that I act only with you in mind, fearing how my tampering may have already changed matters. More people's happiness rests on this than you would believe._

_It is imperative that you learn as much as you are able before taking this burden upon your shoulders, for any less effort would result in failure. If you have not yet been trained as a witch, then I beg that you would set this letter aside and come back to it in the future when you have learned more of what you are. If you are well into training, then read on, and I'm confident that one who is my own blood will comprehend the entire matter. From my visions I see that you are not as inclined towards divination as I. I hope that with time your opinion may alter, but if not then do not doubt I am proud of you regardless. Even should you fail at the task I am about to set, so long as you remain true to yourself and your family then I will never been ashamed or disappointed. I hope one day you will encounter my portrait and we may have a proper conversation._

_If you are anything like me, you will be growing impatient, so I will get to the point. Visions and prophecy do not tell you exactly what is coming, or exactly how to get there. I hope you will not become so frustrated by my lack of answers for you that you give up, because if there is one thing I _am_ sure of, it is of the importance of what I have seen._

_I have had a recurring dream for the past three years, and though it has always been my motto not to interfere with the future, I have finally been convinced through my dreams of the necessity. I give you the actual dream in hopes you will make more sense of it than I have been able to, and you must understand that I have never trusted others with such knowledge of me in the past. Always be careful whom you reveal your dreams to, as in the right hands they can betray much about you. _

_In the dream I see a young girl who drinks something that, somehow, I know to be a polyjuice potion. She then turns into a kitten, of all the absurd things, and begins stalking the halls of Hogwarts. In the dungeons she encounters a small green garden snake, such as would never be considered a threat save by those who fear all snakes simply because they are snakes. The two circle each other, hissing at one another in their own way, and then the scene changes. It is now a forest, but all the trees are on fire. The kitten has now become a lion and the garden snake a cobra. They still circle, but then suddenly they turn away from one another and face the forest. It is strange, but almost as if they are protecting each other's backs. The harder I look, the stranger the scene becomes, and I see flashes of chains binding them or limbs that for a moment look human. When I try to focus on those details though, they fade away. Some nights the chains seem to break, and the serpent and lion go separate ways. Those nights I see the fire consume them. Other nights they stay together and seem to consume the fire, although in waking hours it is extremely hard to explain how they manage that. _

_I have turned to every means I can manage to think of to explain this dream, but with limited success. I have tried your basic crystal ball and tea leaves as I'm sure you have learned, but also many ancient arts including scrying and the use of runes. I will admit to darker methods as well, but have no wish to explain them at present. What I know for certain is that it takes place in the future, and that the lion is you, my daughter. (Although I do hope it makes better sense to you than it did to me, my dear.) I know not who or what the snake is, but whatever happens will involve more than the two of you. I feel strongly that the forest is the magical world, but I really can't explain that certainty._

_There is one who you can turn to for assistance if and when you need it. The Malfoy line has always been closely tied with our own, and though I'm sure they will be just as arrogant in your time as they are now, I assure you they have hearts of gold if you can get through all the layers of ice. My work in divination has pointed to their being the best help for you in this. Regardless of their position or opinions, each heir of the Malfoy line takes an Unbreakable Vow, and part of the terms are to insure it gets passed on to the next generation. If you approach an heir to the Malfoy line and request aid as a "daughter of Leda," then they are bound by the Vow to do everything in their power to grant it. I trust you not to abuse that Vow in any way that would make death a better option – I went to great lengths to convince them to do this for us, more than you would care to know of._

_Now, for the other items I have set aside for your aid. I have placed charms on all the items I pass down to you in an attempt to ensure they do not get lost, but if they do then I sincerely apologize at my own failure and hope it will not affect your success._

_There is a small gold key in the box. If you have ever seen keys to a Gringott's vault, then you may recognize it for what it is. Tell them you wish admittance to your inheritance from Leda Atreus and that should be all required. There are spells on the vault's contents to ensure any who enter are my blood. The gold is for your expenses, but the jewelry is family heirlooms that I wish for your use and nothing else. You may find certain pieces to be of magical assistance, but I will leave that to your own discovery. Also in the vault I will be placing family records that may aid you in learning more of your family. I don't anticipate it will directly help with your task, but I would wish you to know more about myself and our line, especially in matters that those without magic cannot truly appreciate._

_With the gold key and this letter there should also be a pearl necklace with a single silver and emerald serpent charm. Yes, my dear, I have seen into the future far enough to see that you do not follow me into Slytherin, but that is not the only significance of the serpent. It will announce your identity to your allies, even when you are unaware of them, and as it happens I can be a sentimental fool at times and simply wish you to have my most treasured possession. That necklace is exactly it, and I was given it when I graduated from Hogwarts by my mother._

_If you have already been trained, as you damn well better be if you have read this far along, then you will be aware of "light" and "dark" magic. Certain spells, potions, and other magical items can be "dark," but do not make the mistake of believing them inherently evil. Many have made that error before, and in so doing have lost a good deal of the advantage they might have had otherwise. The sun must eventually set so that the moon might rise, and so too there is a time for both the "light" and the "dark" magic. It is intent, not method, which is of greatest import. I have seen witches and wizards harmed by light and dark alike, as I have also seen them aided by each._

_The task I wish to give you is simple – follow your intuition. If you allow it, then it will guide you towards what must take place. You may notice some changes in yourself. I will not say that I have anything to do with those changes not having taken place before, but I will say that you should embrace rather than fight them._

_My love will be with you, my dear, and I hope that you will (in time if not now), feel love for me as well._

_Your "Mother,"  
Leda Hermione Atreus_

"Bloody hell," she mumbled towards the end, ignoring her mother's dislike of slang. "She wrote an awful lot of words to have left me with so many questions. And this complicates things. You remember the Malfoy's I've told you about? It was their son that I was talking about before. This mentions them..."

"Yes," said her mother. "That is what made me think it was time for you to have these things. I'm sure you have told me of them before, but I never made the connection before now."

"I do rather like the idea of their Vow to help us," Hermione said after reading parts of the letter aloud for her mother. "Though I don't know about not abusing it – the Malfoy's would deserve me making them do a great many things."

"Hermione Jane Granger," her mother said sharply. "I'm not entirely sure how you meant that, but I don't believe I like hearing it regardless. I'm sure they are not as bad as all that."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "That would depend on your definition of bad. If calling me 'mudblood' at every opportunity and constantly working towards the harm of my friends and I is good, then I suppose you are quite right."

"Oh Hermione..." her mother said, trailing off and leaving her to her thoughts.

Hermione had stuck her wand in her pocket that morning and quickly accio'd pen and paper. _This will be interesting_, she thought as she set down to write a letter of her own.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione smirked with the greatest satisfaction as she set aside the note to be mailed. There was no way that Lucius Malfoy would ever suspect her true identity. At least, not at first. He would eventually have to figure it out if she was to use him to help her, but there was no need to rush. She would enjoy her game for the moment, and hope that what Leda needed of her would make itself apparent soon.

Lucius Malfoy was sitting in his study, papers spread out across his desk and a small lunch before him, when one of his house elves appeared beside him. She placed a small note on the desk beside him and left immediately. Lucius received a great deal of letters daily, but there was something about this one that sparked his immediate curiosity. Opening it quickly his eyes scanned the delicate script quickly, inhaling the distinctly feminine scent that seemed embedded in the pages.

_My dearest Mr. Malfoy,_

_It is with great happiness that I have come into the knowledge of an inheritance of mine that also happens to affect your family. My great-great-grandmother was Leda Hermione Atreus, a woman who I have heard was a quite charming and very talented witch. She entrusted certain events into my care, and mentioned to me a certain promise that your family had taken because of the situation. _

_In her letters to me I was ensured of the Malfoy line's loyalty and great closeness with my own kin, and as such I had hopes of a renewed relationship. It was also my intent to discover whether or not the Vow has survived in your family, or if it, as so much of history, has been forgotten with time. My owl will await your reply._

_Respectfully yours,_

"_Daughter of Leda"_

He fell back against his chair and stared at the page. Leda, and the daughter she had forseen, was something of his family's legends. So many times as a boy his grandfather had told him stories of Leda. He'd heard how beautiful she was, how intelligent she was, and how kind she ways. He'd also heard that she was strong, at times manipulative, and could do her duty with a coldness that you'd never expect. If her 'daughter' was half so gifted then there would scarcely be another witch to rival her. To think that he would learn her identity was something of his dreams.

Why did she make him wait though? Why hide behind the epithet that Leda had given her? Did he know her? Or was she a stranger? All these questions and more filled his mind, and even with his own Slytherin qualities he was at a loss to comprehend it. Still, he reasoned, it might suggest she was not in support of the Dark Lord, whoever she might be. If she were, he doubted she'd be so reluctant to come to him. Among his Lord's circles he was well respected. It was a thought to consider, really. If she was against Lord Voldemort, then how well could he carry out his vow? To which must be his loyalty?

They were questions that he had no ready answer for, and Lucius knew he would have none until he learned more of Leda's descendant. He grabbed his quill excitedly and penned a quick note in reply.

He achieved little for the rest of his evening. He was too curious, too excited to think of anything else.

Hermione was not kept waiting long. Not long into the evening the owl returned with a note from Lucius Malfoy. Retreating to her bedroom with the note she curled up in the covers on her bed and prepared herself for what she hoped would be a very entertaining letter._ Imagine,_ she thought, _if he knew such haste had been wasted on a mudblood._

_Dearest Lady,_

_The Malfoy's have remained true to the requests of the Lady Leda, and have taken pride in their loyalty to the daughter she foresaw. My assistance is yours at any time and in any form you desire. It would be a great pleasure if you would see deign to visit Malfoy Manor as soon as it is convenient for you. _

_Your humble servant,_

_Lucius Malfoy_

Hermione giggled at the idea of Lucius Malfoy being her humble servant. Or better yet, if that offer extended to Draco as well, then that would be something to see. All these years of tormenting her and it would be they at her mercy. It was well worth a few moments picturing, though unfortunately she had to make herself ill by allowing those thoughts to wander to those of a sexual nature. Draco was thought the sex god of Slytherin, and she had heard similar of his father, but their affiliation with the Dark Lord and the wrong they had done to herself and her friends made it hard to enjoy such daydreaming. Hard, but not impossible, she thought to herself.

_Dearest Mr. Malfoy,_

_May I address you as Lucius? _

_Unfortunately my status in the wizarding world is such that a meeting at this particular moment might not be best. I will consider, but can make no promises. _

_Respectfully yours,_

"_Daughter of Leda"_

"Let's see what he makes of this," she said under her breath as she finished writing the short reply. Sending it off quickly she lay in bed and began contemplating whether the Malfoy tendencies might just hold some appeal.

It had been years since Lucius had drank himself to sleep, but he'd had such a hard time with his thoughts the night before that he'd finally resorted to two full bottles of Ogden's. The normally comfortable leather chair he sat in by the fireplace had made his back sore, and his neck felt little better. It was several minutes and two potions later before he could think well enough to see the letter that had come in the night.

From the moment he saw it, not even knowing for a fact that it was from _her_, his thoughts were consumed with Leda and her descendant. He had always hoped she would be born in his lifetime, and he kept trying to guess what she must look like. He had seen a portrait of Leda years ago and she had been beautiful.

No promises, indeed. To say that her response was disappointing to him would be an understatement. Lucius Malfoy was used to getting what he wanted, and with that in mind he grabbed his quill.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed the story so far – its greatly appreciated. I'll continue posting chapters fairly regularly, and given some feedback I've received I've decided **not** to edit for content and just hope the M rating covers it. I'm sure it will, as what lemons I write are nowhere near over the top or anything, it's just that since it isn't necessarily an adult oriented site I had originally been a little concerned. I love feedback, but the story has already been written through the first eleven chapters (which will all be posted soon enough) so keep in mind that certain suggestions will only affect later chapters. : )

Anyway... on to the story. Enjoy!

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Hermione slept in the next morning, excitement and questions having kept her up late. She'd always scorned divination, but armed with this new knowledge of her great-great-grandmother, Hermione had promptly read everything she had on the subject. It had been generally enlightening, but offered little as far as her actual situation went. Still, knowledge was worth having, and she was sure it would come in handy. _Although_, she did rather think a trip to Flourish & Blotts might be in order.

Noon wasn't far past when the owl came with her latest letter. She opened it quickly, completely intrigued.

_Dearest Lady,_

_I would be delighted if you would call me Lucius. _

_Allow me to assure you that, by the Vow I took as a young boy, you will be safe so long as you are at Malfoy Manor and when our visit is over I will see to taking you safely to wherever you wish. No matter your identity, I will allow no harm to befall you._

_I have included a portkey in hopes you will accept this invitation._

_Your servant,_

_Lucius_

_Still my servant, but no longer humble_, she thought, laughing. It was a pretty solid promise for her safety, she had to admit. Even for a Malfoy. The old Hermione would have automatically refused because it was just too dangerous. This Hermione though couldn't help remembering Leda's insistence she trust her intuition, and for some strange reason Hermione was certain she should go.

She considered coming up with some lie about why she was leaving the house, but finally decided it didn't matter. Her mother thought well of the Malfoy's because of what she had grown up believing, and true to Hermione's expectations her mother just said to have fun and fill her in when she got back. With that in mind, Hermione changed into something a bit more presentable and activated the portkey.

She found herself pulled to a large, dark room. The only light came from the fireplace, and extended only weakly throughout the rest of the room. She could see enough detail to see bookshelves around her, and know it was a library of sorts, but could make out no book titles or other detail. Lucius Malfoy was sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace, looking at her with a smile on his face.

"Remember your promises, _Lucius_," she said softly as she walked towards him.

He should have paled with recognition of her, but instead he smiled all the brighter. "Miss Granger? It is a pleasure. You may not appreciate the sentiment, but I do feel some satisfaction that such a talented young witch is not, in fact... what is the term you would have me use? Muggleborn?"

"I look at my birth the same that I always have," she answered simply. "You may scorn the fact that I come from a line of primarily muggles, but that is your problem to deal with."

"I have heard it said that you are the brightest witch of the age," answered Lucius. "Although I will not deny that I had always expected my Vow to apply to a pureblood witch rather than a mudblood."

"Then I daresay the turn of events might do you good," said Hermione, trying to keep her anger under control. There was no contempt in his voice when he referred to her as a 'mudblood,' and he had not used it initially, but he was obviously trying to control the situation by causing her to lose her focus. It was just his way – part of it being the Slytherin in him, part the Malfoy in him. That combination did seem to combine in the form of perfectly conceited arses.

Rather nice arses to look at too, come to think of it. Hermione's new sense of herself was allowing her to notice many things that she normally would consider unthinkable, and the truth was Lucius Malfoy had a very scrumptious looking figure. It wasn't like she was the only witch to think so either. Although, given time, she did think his son might cut an even better figure than his father. Oh, the possibilities.

_Now where is this coming from?_ She wondered abruptly. It was not like her to think with, well, with that part of her body. Shaking the feeling off she took the empty seat by the fireplace that Lucius lacked the courtesy to offer her.

He raised his eyebrow at her behavior, but then began to smile broadly. "Oh yes," he said to her, "you _are_ Leda's daughter, aren't you? She had balls like no other, if you will excuse the expression."

"That phrase coming from a _pureblood_ wizard is quite amusing, I assure you," she said, laughing. "To the point though, I would like to know what information you can give me about Leda."

At this rate his eyebrow was going to be stuck in place by the end of the conversation, he kept it raised so much. "Not one for small talk, are you, my dear? If you tell me what you know, I will know what to fill in for you."

Hermione shook her head. "How Slytherin of you, Lucius, to speak so. You are still uncertain regarding how much you wish to help me, and are quite aware of the ways you may get out of doing so. You are bound only to do what I ask of you as a daughter of Leda, and you are not above misleading me at other times. My informing you of what I know would make it much easier for you to do so."

"You should have been a Slytherin, my dear," he said, "even if you are a bit straightforward compared to most Slytherins I have been acquainted with. I would hardly have expected a Gryffindor to see through the request, albeit how simple it should have been to do so."

She glared at him. "It was a test, then? You would certainly know what makes a Slytherin, though I highly doubt I would ever fall into that particular category."

"I don't know about that," he told her, rising from his chair and kneeling beside her so that he could study her more closely. "

_He is trying to unnerve me with proximity_, she told herself, _but I can handle it. I will not be distracted by it._ "Are you willing to help me or not?" she asked calmly. "If you aren't, then say so now and I will leave."

"I am the master of Malfoy Manor," he answered. "You cannot leave without my consent."

"Don't threaten me, Lucius," she said, allowing his name to roll off her tongue seductively. Not that she was quite sure when she learned to do so, as many of her thoughts and behaviors had showed up. "You and I both know that I could invoke your Vow, and you would have no choice but to accept my departure by whatever means I see fit."

"Oh I can think of something you and I should invoke," he said, equally seductive.

She stared at him, unmoving. "This is not a time for seductions, Lucius. Especially when your _wife_ is most likely asleep nearby, and I am in the same year as your _son_. This is a time for you to tell me of Leda."

He took her hand that was resting on her lap and kissed it. "Very well, I will do as you ask, Hermione. Although I do hope you may later change your views on seduction." He was silent a moment, hoping for a response from her, but continued when she failed to give it to him. "Leda was skilled in all matters of divination, and it has been hinted at by my family that her skills extended into what you would consider the dark arts, as well as some abilities that extend from old Celtic religion. I know not what those abilities were, except that they were beyond the normal realm of witches and wizards, something that when combined with her other talents made her feared by many in the magical world. When my grandfather was on his deathbed he mentioned her once more, reminiscing. He told me that she 'was captivating in personality, overwhelming in sensuality, and frightening in her power.' He said he never knew a woman to so manipulate the men around her without losing her reputation. In fact, I believe she gained reputation by her efforts."

"I think I would enjoy having such power over men," said Hermione thoughtfully, forgetting just who she was speaking to and not entirely meaning to say her thoughts aloud anyway.

"You have more power than you know, my dear," he said to her, again kissing her hand which he had yet to let go of. "Do you think it is for any woman that I will kneel on the floor?"

"I imagine not," she said. "But I believe it would probably do you some good to kneel more often."

"I kneel more than any could wish, and before the most frightening of people," he said solemnly. She felt a slight shudder in the hand that held hers, and for a moment his eyes held more emotion than she would have expected to see from a Malfoy. He shook it quickly, though, and continued. "Did she tell you how she extracted the Vow from the first Malfoy to take it? No, I suppose you wouldn't tell me if you did. He had loved her since their childhood, and she had never returned his affection in the way he wished. Finally, only a few years before her death and when she was still quite beautiful, she went to him with an offer. For twenty four hours she would be his lover, and fulfill any fantasies he desired, but in return he would take this strange Unbreakable Vow that she required. To most, it would be considered foolish for him to have accepted. But as I told you, she was overwhelming in sensuality, and he had truly loved her for so long that there was little he could do but succumb to her request."

"It's sweet," she said softly. "I hadn't ever thought a Malfoy would feel love so deeply. No offense."

"I wouldn't say offense is what I feel greatest," he said, grinning, "though I feel that to an extent too. I think I'd rather just show you how much we can love."

"Lucius Malfoy, behave yourself." She spoke sternly, as a mother lecturing her child. His confidence had its affect on her, but he was the last person she would allow to know it. Unfortunately, she was afraid he already had an idea of how he affected her. Malfoys screamed confidence, but his seemed a little too genuine at the moment. "Need I mention your wife again?"

"Are you referring to the wife I did not choose for myself?" he asked. "The one who is warm and loving to our son but frigid the moment I'm in the room? Who does not love me? Who knows I have never loved her and has not sought for me to? Whose bed I have not shared since Draco was born and she decided her duty was fulfilled? Is that the wife you mean?"

"Twist it as you will," answered Hermione. "It does not change the fact that you are married. Although if you are so sure of that reason being superfluous then I can easily give you a list of many more. Not the least of which is that I am not attracted to you as so many other witches seem to be."

"Oh, you aren't? Is that why I can feel your pulse racing in this delicate little wrist of yours and there is a beautiful flush to your cheeks?" He ignored it when she jerked her hand away from him, her eyes bright as if she were about to burst out with a lecture refuting his every word. He didn't give her the chance. "It's always black and white for you, isn't it? Always crystal clear? Have you ever considered that maybe things aren't what they seem, and the morality you base your life on might be flawed?"

His words were too close to the warning of Leda, but she let it go for the moment. "I see you are not capable of behaving yourself and sticking to the subject at hand. I'm sorry you find it so hard to believe a woman might not be seduced by your charms. Until next time, Lucius." She touched the coin in her pocket that she had turned into a portkey before arriving, activating it.

Lucius watched her disappear with a smile on his face. "She admitted I have charms."

His grandfather was not the first Malfoy to love a woman of the Atreus line. However, he had every confidence that he would be the first to be loved in return.


	4. Chapter 4

"How are you doing, dear?" asked her mother. She had been treading carefully around her ever since they first read the letter, and Hermione knew there was little she could say to convince her mother that she was okay with it. It was strange, but Hermione felt rather at peace with what she had been given, and a good deal excited to see it through.

"I'm going to Diagon Alley. I have to go to Gringott's, the bank where Leda said she had a vault for me, and I may go to Madam Malkin's dress shop too. I have decided that since whatever it was Leda has seen seems to have something to do with the magical community, it might be helpful if I had a set of traditional dress robes."

Her mother nodded. "I don't suppose you want me to come with you?"

"You are welcome to if you wish, mum, but I'll be fine if you don't. You've always seemed to avoid the magical world in the past."

"It made me nervous," said her mother, "knowing that I would have to give you that letter one day. I have to admit I'm a bit curious about it. I hear your stories and wonder how these places must be. I've seen Diagon Alley, but not been in Gringott's or been to Madam Malkin's for anything but your school uniform. It's intriguing."

Hermione smiled broadly. She might be excited, but there were still butterflies in her stomach, and the chance to share the magical side of herself with her mother was always thrilling. "Maybe we can go get ready after breakfast and spend the morning there? We could have lunch in the Leaky Cauldron."

Not two hours later they had eaten their breakfast, dressed, and had gone through the Leaky Cauldron and emerged in Diagon Alley. There were always interesting sights, especially for muggleborns, but Jane Granger never ceased to be surprised by what could be found there. Their trips for school supplies had been interesting enough, but now that her mother was speaking to her more openly about magic it was even more amusing. As they made their way to Gringott's, Hermione had to stop and convince her mother that whatever distraction she had found would most likely be there later. Her mother had to return the favor open passing Flourish & Blotts though, when she reminded her daughter that the bookstore would still be there later too.

Walking into Gringott's, Hermione heard her mother's gasp of surprise at the goblins that were going about their duties. Goblins were new to her, and it wasn't like they were the prettiest sort of creature.

Going straight up to an available goblin, Hermione cleared her throat. "I am Miss Hermione Granger. I'm here to see the vault of my great-great-grandmother, Leda Atreus."

The goblin studied her carefully for a moment, not quite concealing their surprise. "You have your key?" he inquired. At least, Hermione supposed it was a he. She had never seen a female goblin that she was aware of, and hadn't the slightest idea of what they looked like. She quickly made a note to look for a book on goblins at Flourish & Blotts. Surely a little more information about goblins might come in handy someday.

"I do," she answered promptly, holding it up for him to see.

He nodded and waved another goblin over. "Take Miss Granger to vault 734."

The interior of Gringott's, once you got passed the entrance and the lobby, was quite dreary and not exactly warm. It seemed to take forever to get to the vault, though Hermione was certain it was only ten or fifteen minutes at the most. She handed the goblin her key and watched him touch the door to open it. The door opened, and he stepped back. "Careful, miss," he said, "this vault is warded against any who is not Ms. Atreus' kin." His words would have been a kind warning for any who were not Leda's descendents, but as it was he seemed to wish Hermione wasn't just so that he would have the entertainment of seeing her hurt by the wards.

She shivered, not wanting to imagine what fate Leda had in mind for unwelcome intruders. Shaking that idea off, Hermione stepped inside the vault and gasped in surprise. Gold was stacked everywhere, and she thought there were enough galleons in there to last her several lifetimes. It did not take long to find the items Leda had written of, and Hermione put them in her bag along with a good stack of galleons. It would be enough to pay for all she intended to buy that day and probably last to the end of the school year as well.

The entire time they were in Gringott's, Jane Granger said not a word. Once they left, Hermione could hear her mother sigh in relief. "That is a horrible place, Hermione. I felt certain that the goblin was taking us to our deaths."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "There are many places in the magical community like that. You get somewhat used to it, or at least learn not to let it get to you too badly."

Gringott's had taken a little over an hour, and next they went to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Madame Malkin met them as soon as they entered the door, and Hermione figured it had probably been a slow day for the shop. "I have come for a set of dress robes, or perhaps several sets. I could use some suggestions as to what I need."

Madame Malkin was smiling kindly, but the smile faded for a moment when she found that she would be spending much of her morning assisting a student that, well, just didn't have that much money to spend. Jane had gone off to examine the materials that were hung on the walls and was oblivious of it all. Hermione didn't miss that look on Malkin's face, but neither did it bother her. It was the truth, or had been, and she would now have the pleasure of putting Leda's money to good use. "I believe I could use one set of a simple but sturdy fabric, well suited for informal situations and travel. Another needs to be of a much richer fabric, something you might expect on the wealthiest of witches. And, yes, I do believe I would like a third as well. Perhaps something in between the other two, not quite formal but not plain either? Those and all necessary accessories to accompany them. I will be adding a generous tip in return for your confidentiality regarding my order."

Madame Malkin's smile had returned fully by the time Hermione had mentioned the third set of robes, and her eyes seemed to sparkle at the mention of a generous tip. "I'm sure we have everything necessary for your order in stock. Let us look at some colors, shall we?"

By the end of the visit, Malkin had convinced Hermione that a fourth and fifth set of robes would be useful as well, just to be prepared for any possible need. Hermione wasn't hard to convince, thoroughly enjoying the ability to buy all that she wanted for once. The only thing she had really insisted on was that they not be too gaudy, and beyond that she had bowed to Malkin's experience in these matters.

She was tired and hungry when they left Madam Malkin's shop, but hunger won out and they decided not to skip lunch at the Leaky Cauldron. It was a simple meal, but both she and her mother thoroughly enjoyed it. Well, until she heard someone walk up behind her and, in a deep and incredibly silky voice, said, "Well if it isn't Miss Granger."

Hermione turned to face Lucius Malfoy, who was enough of an arse to look even better than usual. "Mr. Malfoy," she said curtly.

"And who is this lovely woman you are with? Your sister?" he asked.

Hermione glared at him, and through gritted teeth introduced them. Her mother was charmed by him, but Hermione knew it was all an act.

"Is this the Malfoy that the letter mentioned?" her mother asked.

Hermione closed her eyes as if in pain. How could her mother mention it so easily? "Yes, mum, but I would rather we discuss this later."

"Oh," her mother said, eyes widening. "Of course."

Lucius didn't press for details, which Hermione felt to be rather strange, but she had little chance to think on it just then as he was looking at her as if he was undressing her in his mind. The idea of it left her feeling nearly breathless and completely unable to look him or anyone else in the eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Later that night she received another owl. She knew it was likely from Lucius, but the moment _that_ thought crossed her mind she found herself quickly correcting herself. It was likely from _Mr. Malfoy._ Only when satisfied that her emotions were entirely under control did she read it.

_Dearest Hermione,_

_I had thought seeing you in Diagon Alley would allow us an opportunity to converse. I was disappointed that didn't prove to be the case, and have included another portkey in the event you would agree to another visit. I make no promises to conform to your concept of good behavior, although again I promise that no harm will come to you._

_Please believe that a part of me has always respected you, despite comments about your heritage that may have been somewhat out of line. I do not wish to offend your sensibilities, and hope you will give me a chance to get to know you better and allow you to know me._

_Most Assuredly Yours,  
Lucius_

Sometime during the letter Hermione lost the control of her thoughts that she had been going for and began to think about how he must have looked while writing it. She could just imagine him sitting at his desk, quill in hand. His hands were formed beautifully. The fingers were delicate, with the perfect degree of strong and masculine curve to it. He held himself so coolly, but radiated heat. She could just imagine how it must feel to have those hands tracing the curves of her own body.

Hermione blinked. _What the bloody hell is going on with me?_ Slowly, but surely, and ever since reading that letter from Leda, her way of thinking had changed. It was as if a very important portion of her personality had been hidden from her and only now had come to the surface. _Oh no... _

'_You may notice some changes in yourself. I will not say that I have anything to do with those changes not having taken place before, but I will say that you should embrace rather than fight them.'_

Could it have been some magic at the hands of her grandmother that was changing her so? And was she truly changing, or just knowing herself fully for the first time in her life? So many possibilities, and so few answers. Hermione found herself torn. Should she accept who she was becoming, or try desperately to hold onto the young, naïve girl she once was?

It was then that the pieces began to fall into place like a puzzle after that one key piece was located. "No...," she told herself, "Leda couldn't have..." She quickly searched for the lion necklace she'd been given as a girl. Her mother had told her it was a family heirloom, and she had never removed it, ever. Sometimes she'd cast a charm to hide it, but she'd done as her mother told her and kept it on her always. Until that letter and the belongings Leda had left her. Then it had been replaced, quite subconsciously, by another heirloom.

The necklace was all that she could think of. A letter might well include a magic to reveal or undo something, but Hermione could think of nothing else that would have subdued part of her personality so many years before.

"Family heirloom, my arse," she muttered. Pointing her wand at the necklace she said firmly, "Specialis Revelio."

The lion charm glowed brightly, giving off a red glow. She didn't recognize enough to know the spell used, but at least it was a question answered.

One answer down. Ten million to go.

Pacing back and forth, her mind went into overdrive in an attempt to process everything. "If the charm had a spell on it," she said out loud and talking to no one in particular, "then it was only repressing my true self. Which would imply that these things I now feel are very much my own personality, and I should embrace them. I think. Oh gods, this is more trouble that it should bloody well be."

Did Leda know the turmoil her 'daughter' would find herself in? Hermione decided it sounded rather Slytherin, and therefore quite probable. By all accounts Leda had been a great manipulator, and Hermione knew of no reason Leda would refrain just to save her descendant's – what was the word Lucius had used? Sensibilities, that was it. Leda probably wouldn't save her Gryffindor sensibilities when she had a goal in mind.

Curling up in a comfortable chair, Hermione started reading some of the old books she had found in Leda's vault. Maybe, just maybe, she would find some answers.

A good distance away, Lucius sat in his study in Malfoy Manor. He kept glancing at the window, and calling the house elves to ask if any letters had arrived. There was nothing, though a part of him knew it was still a bit early to expect anything. The damn girl was consuming his thoughts like no other. Narcissa's cruel words went unheard, and other women's charms unnoticed.

He was a man undone, and that did not befit a Malfoy. One way or another, a conclusion must be reached. He _would_ regain his control, as only a Malfoy could.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun's rays shined through Hermione's window, waking her with their harshness and half blinding her as her eyes attempted to adjust. She had fallen asleep in her chair, and as she awoke more fully she became aware of her body screaming at her. Apparently the chair which was so comfortable to read in did not make a good bed, and now half of the muscles in her body ached for it.

Looking about her room, Hermione's eyes rested on the letter that sat on the edge of her bed. Lucius' now familiar script brought back all of her dreams from the night before. Sometimes they had featured him, sometimes not, but they seemed to be her mind's subconscious answers to all the questions she'd been entertaining. It was like watching bits and pieces of a beautifully artistic film. You don't fully understand the story, and yet you are captivated by how exquisite it is.

Her subconscious mind had faced many of those things that conflicted with her sensibilities, and somewhere along the line Hermione had accepted herself. Or, at least, parts of her new self. There were still things that unnerved her, that she wasn't sure she could cope with, but it was a start. Finally, she trusted herself to send Lucius a reply.

Lucius awoke well past dawn in a large bed covered in silk sheets and luxuriously soft and warm blankets. His hair fell down into his face, and his body was far too comfortable to move. His mind, however, was instantly alert. He had thought long and hard the night before of what he must do regarding Hermione. Though sleep had finally claimed him, he still felt tired as though his mind had still been feverishly processing ideas as he slept.

He finally pushed himself out of bed and took his time dressing. There was always business to be taken care of, and Lucius had quite a knack for it, but that morning he could concentrate on nothing. Instead he spent what little was left of the morning outside, walking the grounds and playing with his hunting dogs. How much had he been missing in life by devoting all his time to wealth, power, and the Dark Lord? The three goals went so naturally together, though they did not work so well as he had once thought they might. Wealth had always been a part of Lucius, though he always sought to increase it. One of the surest ways to increase it, as well as boosting his own self-image, was through power. That was where he had came into the folds of the Dark Lord's followers. He had been so immersed in his own perceived misfortunes as a younger man that any show of power had him aching to be a part of it, especially when revenge was so assured. Of course, the young Lucius had never realized how futile his efforts would become. The power he received from following the Dark Lord was scarcely greater than the problems he faced because of it, and his financial gains aided him little when it came time to donate to the Dark Lord's cause. Of course, such monetary aid given to Voldemort could sometimes allow him to temporarily avoid the cruciatus, but there was always some supposed failure that outweighed the money. All in all, he was miserable, and only just realizing it.

When he returned sometime around three in the afternoon for what should have been his noon meal, Lucius found a letter waiting for him. Normally this would cause excitement, but with all the dark thoughts that had been consuming him the letter only brought dread. What further disappointments would it hold?

_Dearest Lucius,_

_I am sorry to hear of your disappointment. As you could see, my mother, who is quite unfamiliar with the workings of the wizarding world, was with me and at such times I am reluctant to reveal to her the full scope of events surrounding me. I am sure you have heard, from your son as well as other connections, of many of the things that have occurred while I have attended Hogwarts. I've come what might be considered as close to death many times, but have been careful to tell my mother only those stories that make it sound no different from a muggle boarding school. Such stories as that of the basilisk I found unnecessary to, let us say, bore her with._

_Soon, perhaps, I can agree to another meeting. At present I am occupied with other matters relating to Leda, and cannot be long taken from my research. That, and your lack of promises regarding good behavior do imply that a bit of time might be best where I am involved._

_I would dearly love to believe that you have always respected me, and not truly meant those cruel words about my heritage which you have made known previously. At present time, however, my mind is unable to believe so. In future, perhaps I will see truth in those words._

_You will know me better before all is said and done. Of that I am quite certain, although I do not know whether it will be to our benefit or our harm. All I can do is hope for the former._

_Respectfully yours,_

_Hermione_

While he could understand her explanations concerning her mother, Hermione's words caused his heart to feel even heavier. His 'other connections' she was right to worry about, and at present moment he felt nearly ashamed of. Nearly only, since he was a Malfoy, but still a great deal closer to ashamed than he was accustomed to.

It hurt that she didn't believe him, and now he wanted her there with him even more. But she was determined to give it time. Could it be that his attentions had not failed to affect her? It was the only reason he could think of that she would be so set on avoiding him. She was so concerned about his marriage to Narcissa, and he had no idea how to change her mind. It wasn't appropriate, as Hermione was the same age as his son and still in school, but there was nothing Lucius could do to change his attraction to her. She didn't act her age, but rather far older, and she had a subtle appeal that he was sure she inherited from Leda. He didn't want her to be _respectfully_ his, he wanted her to be _entirely_ his.

When Hermione received Lucius' reply, it came attached to a small package.

_Dearest Hermione,_

_I saw this when I was out today and immediately thought of you. Since Leda was a Slytherin, I hope the colors will not be offensive._

_Please reconsider your desire to spend time on your own._

_Your servant,_

_Lucius_

Inside the package was a delicate silver star with a small emerald set in the center, and with it came a silver chain. It was beautiful, but somehow accepting it seemed difficult to her since it came from Lucius. She couldn't believe any gift would come from him without invisible strings attached. Examining it carefully, Hermione cast the same spell she had used to check on her 'heirloom' necklace the day before. It glowed a pale blue and her temper began to boil over.

Quickly locating the portkey Lucius had sent her, she activated it immediately. He sat bent over his desk, studying some paperwork, when she arrived. Marching straight over to his desk she threw the chain at him and barely kept her voice below a scream. "Is charming necklaces some damned Slytherin technique?"

His face paled, though he managed to control everything else of his expression. "How... I only meant to—"

"Only meant to what? Track me? Manipulate me?" she asked levelly, glaring at him.

"No. Sort of..." he said. "No, that's not it. I would be able to apparate to you, yes, but that is not the purpose of it. It's a protection charm. I just wanted to be there if anything were to threaten you, and this way I would be warned."

"Is that so? The other one seemed to manipulate me, so I have a difficult time believing that your charm was so innocent."

"Yes, you seem to have a very difficult time believing me," he said dryly. "Wait... what do you mean the other one? What other one?"

Hermione sighed and let herself fall into a nearby chair. It was impossible to stay angry at him, and she wasn't sure why. "A necklace my mother gave me that was passed down from Leda. I've worn it every day for years, and yesterday some pieces started to fall together and I decided to check it for magic. It definitely had some sort of spell on it, and given certain... changes... that I have noticed in my life, I believe it was a spell to hide certain personality characteristics."

Lucius raised his eyebrow. No wonder she had been so angry. Not to mention it was no wonder she had thought to check for magic. He'd assumed she'd never think to, and all he'd managed to do was to grossly underestimate her once again. Hermione, one. Lucius, zero.


	7. Chapter 7

"What characteristics would this spell have hidden?" he asked softly, not sure if he could hope she'd tell him. The idea unnerved him to an extent because he was starting to feel something for the little bookworm and wasn't sure he wanted her to change. He respected her. That's what it was. Just respected her and only tried to seduce her for the sake of his own pride. Another part of him, though, hidden in the back of his mind, nagged him and told a different story. _Pride? It's that lithe body and those eyes like molten caramel_.

Hermione just looked at him for a minute, her eyes nearly boring a hole straight through him as she debated her answer. "Those characteristics that are neither Gryffindor nor Ravenclaw," she finally decided on. "A new way of thinking."

For the most part, Lucius was no fool. He'd made enough mistakes in his life, whether he would admit to them or not, but he was a Slytherin through and through and it took only a moment's hesitation to decipher her words. He highly doubted she was referring to Hufflepuff. "Slytherin. You are becoming more calculating and sneaky like us, is that it?"

She shrugged slightly, refusing to look him in the eye for all her supposed courage. "You could say that."

Thinking about Hermione with slightly more Slytherin qualities made Lucius' trousers feel as though they had shrunk, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair under the guise of pouring himself a drink. In recent days he'd had cause to become quite partial to his Ogden's. "In what instances is this coming to the surface? If I may ask, that is."

"I suppose you may," she said with the slightest smile curving her lips. "Most often it comes to the surface when I'm around you, although it seems to be becoming more and more a part of my thinking."

"Around me? I'm quite flattered, Hermione," he answered silkily. His voice deepened as he said her name, and he saw a red tinge appear in her cheeks. "Though I know I'm rather difficult sometimes, I really must wonder what it is that would be so Slytherin about your thoughts right now."

It was then her turn to shift uncomfortably, though for her it was because of his alarmingly intent gaze that seemed to be taking in every detail about her. The Gryffindor part of her mind screamed at her to get out of there, that it wasn't time to spend her courage confronting the snake head on. That other part though, which she was now adjusting to, craved amusement. To an extent, she was in a position of power right then, and she couldn't resist the urge to torture him with it.

With more grace than she was accustomed to having, Hermione rose from her chair and walked over to him, placing her hands on his armrests and bending over so that her face was level with his. If the position happened to give him an interesting view down her shirt, so much the better for effect. "All sorts of bad things I would never consider before."

Lucius had that underappreciated but quite valuable ability to remain calm and collected under all circumstances. Even when standing before the Dark Lord, certain of the cruciatus if not worse, he managed to keep his expressions under control. She had found his weakness. He had never learned such complete control when dealing with women he was interested in, so used to relying on his Malfoy charm and needing rather more show of expression, not less. Now, though, his heart was beating fast and he was increasingly concerned that she would noticed just how affected he was by her. His hand clenched around his glass until his knuckles were white and the glass shattered in his hand.

"I hope I haven't angered you too much, Lucius," Hermione said, acting as though it was nothing out of the ordinary for him to break a glass in such a way. She calmly cleaned up the mess while he sat there, frozen, and rather pleasant sensation ran down his spine when she took his hand and checked for any cuts from the glass. She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it softly. "See? All better."

"I am far from angry, my dear," he said finally as she backed up and put space between them once more. "Just distracted thinking of what it could mean for you, a Gryffindor lioness, to have Slytherin characteristics."

Something about how he called her a lioness aroused her, and quickly she began thinking that their current exchange was no longer simple amusement. The Gryffindor side won. "As it happens, I think it is time for me to leave and go ponder those characteristics."

Lucius sighed. He would not hold her there longer against her will. It was not just that she could require him by his oath to release her. He didn't want to control her. It was a strange feeling for a man who prided himself on controlling everything. He rose from his chair and nodded to her. He kissed her hand in return, but in farewell, and then quickly kissed her forehead before she had the chance to object. "I hope you will grace me with your presence again before too much time has passed. Stay safe, and please wear the necklace. I don't seek to manipulate you with it, I just feel compelled to protect you as much as possible. I have altered the Manor's wards. You may apparate to or from here whenever you wish, though it is probably best that you come only to this library for now."

She put the chain in his hand and allowed him to fasten it on for her. She shouldn't trust him, and knew he was not above manipulation, but a part of her couldn't help it. She did trust him, and when he specifically said it was only to protect her then she believed him. "Goodbye, Lucius."

"Goodbye, lioness," he answered with a smile.

Apparating back to her room, Hermione collapsed directly into bed. Her mind was full of Lucius, and how her visit had gone. He was growing on her, and that scared her. She wasn't _supposed_ to like him. He was a Death Eater, and a cruel man in her previous experience. Gods, he'd nearly caused the death of Ginny Weasley with that book of Voldemort's, and would probably have killed her then too if he'd had the chance. Yet here she was changing her opinion of him. She was starting to respect him. That's what it was.

Her fingers traced the outline of the necklace he had given her, and she remembered how gentle he had been when fastening it. How she felt his warm breath against the back of her neck, and when he was finished how he let his hand rest on her shoulder for a moment before sliding it down her arm and finally releasing her. Hermione had fought rather hard to keep herself from leaning back against him and pulling his arms around her waist. He probably wouldn't have objected too much, but she wouldn't have felt right about it. Despite how much fun it was to mess with him, to provoke him, he still had a wife who didn't deserve to have another woman behaving that way with her husband.

Oh, Slytherin characteristics were indeed what Leda's necklace had kept locked away for Hermione, but the term had to be the biggest understatement of the century. Perhaps she was a lioness, but somehow she felt herself at the mercy of the serpent. When she was younger, she had seen a stray cat fighting a snake in her back yard one day. It was a strange sight, but they were far more evenly matched than she would have thought. How evenly then, were she and Lucius matched?

She would find a way. Regardless of everything, she would win.


	8. Chapter 8

Days passed without speaking to Lucius. Hermione told herself that she was just busy preparing for school to resume, but in the back of her mind there was a little voice that told a different story. _You're scared of him. You're scared of yourself when around him. He makes you push his buttons. He makes you want him_. Regardless of the new parts of her personality, which she was steadily discovering and becoming accustomed to, nothing had changed Hermione's belief in absolute loyalty. Perhaps she could let herself overlook Lucius' ties to Voldemort, and maybe in so doing she could convince him to switch sides. She could not, however, allow herself to become physically intimate with a man who was married to another woman. _Physically intimate? You sound like a prude. What century are you from? Sounds like someone _could use_ a handsome Slytherin to get over that way of thinking about it._

Hermione lay in bed thinking about all of this, and before long her fingers were caressing her own skin, running up and down her body as thoughts of Lucius consumed her. She might be unwilling to be intimate with him, but she was not wholly immune to his charms. Her hand slid under her t-shirt and ran softly over her nipples, imagining how it would feel for him to caress her breasts with his hands and take her nipple in his mouth. He'd lick the tip, then suck it softly, his hand moving down over her stomach and finally gripping her hip to pull their bodies closer together. Or he'd take one of those beautiful fingers of his and enter her, feeling just how wet he made her. Hermione's own fingers mimicked her imagination, and she felt her body becoming more and more aroused by the thoughts. It didn't help in convincing herself to stay away from him, but in some ways it took the edge off her desire for him.

There was a tap on her window which caused her to jump. Lucius' owl was at the window, and she could scarcely move fast enough to get the letter and tear it open.

_My Dearest Lioness,_

_Each morning since seeing you last I have woken and immediately checked for some word from you. Each time there is nothing my mood falls deeper and deeper into the darkness. You are my light, as strange as it is to put such thought to paper. I dream of having you here._

_If you do not wish to return to see me at present then at least send me word of how you are doing. Let me know you are happy, and that your days are pleasurable._

_Quite humbly yours,_

_Lucius_

Her heart nearly ached with his letter, sorry to be the cause of such apparent pain. She had no right to be close to him as he seemed to want, but a part of her wished so badly to go and put her arms around him and hold him tight. Lucius was a man of steel, cold and unwavering. Yet here he was, laying himself vulnerable before her. It meant a great deal to her, and sent her mind places it shouldn't go.

"Ugh, this is growing ridiculous," Hermione said to herself. She needed to think, but her own thoughts did her very little good. She needed outside opinions, but her mother was out of the question and it was too dangerous to tell her magical friends anything. Even if she left out most of the details, including Lucius' name, it could still cause problems for her. So really, there was very little she could do but call up one of her muggle friends.

Hermione had originally attended muggle schools, and played with neighbors her own age. When she went to Hogwarts', most of those old friendships had either been abandoned or just faded away as she spent more time away from home. Becca, though, had been her best friend ever since she could remember, and long ago Hermione had confided in her about being a witch. They didn't talk much anymore, but whenever one of them was in trouble or needed help in some way, the other would step in to help as if they were sisters that had never spent a day apart.

After a few minutes of searching, Hermione found Becca's most recent phone number. Talking to her was always amusing, because Becca had spent a lot of time with relatives in the United States, and her way of talking was a sort of mix of both places. She quickly dialed the number, and three rings later Becca's cheerful voice could be heard on the other end of the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey Bec, its Hermione," she said, a bit nervously. It's not like she'd just gotten back home on break, and yet she hadn't found the time to call up Becca and check on her even once.

"Herms! Bloody hell, it's good to hear from you! How have you been?"

Hermione laughed, her jitters fading away. She felt guilty for not calling, but knew Becca hadn't held it against her in the slightest. "Things have been a bit crazy since I got back. Some strange things about me have come up, and, well, you'll find this humorous even if I don't. I'm in a bit of a difficult situation involving one gorgeous but much older man."

Becca seemed thrilled at the idea of Hermione and a man, regardless of the situation. She was much more, well, if they weren't such good friends Hermione would have to classify Becca as a slut. She enjoyed her life though, and she was a loyal friend, so Hermione had never really held it against her. "It's more complicated than that, Bec," continued Hermione after her friend's excited questions about what he looked like and whether they were actually involved yet.

"More complicated?" asked Becca on the other end of the line, quick to dismiss any and all objections. "Either you like each other, and want each other, or you don't. It's simple."

"He's married."

There was silence for a minute before Becca started laughing at her. "Gone and gotten yourself a married man? For shame, Miss Granger! Really, though, what's the deal? Has he made a move?"

"He's kind of what you'd consider nobility," explained Hermione carefully. "His marriage was arranged. He claims to have never felt affection for his wife, and says she certainly could care less about him. It's just so _wrong_ to want a married man, but his voice alone is enough to seduce a girl!"

"Mmm... sounds sexy," giggled Becca. "If they didn't marry out of love, Herms, then I really don't see the problem. Surely fidelity isn't exactly expected?"

"Gods, it is so sexy," gushed Hermione before she got a hold of herself. "It doesn't matter though whether it's expected. It's wrong. He made a vow to his wife which he shouldn't be breaking, and I shouldn't want to help him break. And where would it lead? It's not like he can divorce her, and we'd never be able to go out in public together anyway. It's doomed to end badly."

"So you are damned if you do and damned if you don't?" asked Becca seriously. "Look, Hermione, that sort of situation is never easy. I know you think that in my relationships I just jump right in and never think things out, and you're probably right. But if you keep overanalyzing things then you're never going to do anything enjoyable with your life. And trust me, you deserve some happiness with all the stress magic has brought in your life--"

Hermione started to interrupt but Becca cut her off and continued. "No, don't misunderstand me. I know you love that world, and I don't criticize you for it, but you have to lean a better way to balance things. If you and this guy can cause a little happiness for each other, then maybe it's worth it regardless of whether or not it can really go anywhere from her. Be careful, but damn it, be happy."

"I just...I can't..." said Hermione, stumbling over the words. "I can't bring myself to do that, even if at the same time I'm having a hard time _not_ doing it."

Hermione could hear her sigh. "Don't stress, Herms," she said, "this isn't something you have to jump into. Just keep it in mind, and use your best judgment."

They talked for awhile longer about what Becca had been up to, and a bunch of trivial topics including the latest gossip about some of their old friends. When they finally got off the phone, Hermione found herself feeling a lot better about the situation. It didn't make the decision any easier, but Becca had managed to make some good points, and it made her feel better regardless since she had actually been able to confide in someone about it.

She went to sleep that night feeling somewhat peaceful. Her decisions could wait until another day.


	9. Chapter 9

_Thank you so much to everyone who has left me these wonderful reviews! Each and every one makes my day. :) I hope (key word, there) that everyone is satisfied with my portrayal of Hermione and Lucius so far. If anyone is still feeling a bit if-y on it, then by all means leave me your concerns... though hopefully the past few chapters have shed enough light on their characters (and what has been changed for my story) that it works for everyone._

_I have the story currently written through chapter twelve, and I'll get those last couple chapters up by the end of the week. After that I'll probably be updating with a new chapter once to twice a week._

_Enjoy!_

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Hermione began to wait longer and longer to send each letter. At first Lucius waited as well, thinking to get her back for it, but finally gave up and would reply immediately. Weeks passed, she spoke to him only through letters, and Lucius was at his wits' end. He thought of her constantly. When he'd finally manage to forget her that little voice in the back of his mind would realize it and remind him of her all over again.

Two weeks, three days, eight hours, and twenty-three minutes. That's how long it had been since her last visit, and that's how long it took for Lucius Malfoy to charge as directly into the problem as a bloody Gryffindor. The knowledge that he was behaving as such was not beyond him, and irritated him a good deal. But then he sent the letter anyway and tried to convince himself that to act so Gryffindor was very Slytherin of him. _Of course it was_.

She had just gotten home from some muggle shopping with her mom when the letter arrived. She did what she had forced herself to do each time he sent her one – set it aside for several hours. It wasn't that Hermione didn't want to know what the letters held. Nor was it that she had better things to do. The problem was, it infuriated her to think of how strongly he affected her thoughts and actions. The sound of his voice alone was enough to make her want to spread her legs for him, and reading his letters was enough to make her want to apparate to him to hear that voice. So she forced herself to wait, to be patient, and only read them when she felt confident that she could resist temptation.

After all, she held the stronger position only so long as she could hold his vow over his head. The moment she allowed herself to get caught up in her emotions would be the moment she lost the nerve, the willpower, to force his hand with the vow. And, really, what good would Leda having procured the vow be to her if she couldn't bring herself to use it?

Later that night she curled up with a cup of tea and a warm blanket, staring down the letter that sat in her lap. Finally, she gave in.

_Lioness,_

_I see now how greatly your newest range of thoughts and opinions must be affecting you. The Hermione I knew originally would have been honest in her feelings, whereas now she has become a woman who holds herself cold and aloof. This has become a game to you where I am but a pawn for you to move at will. Do you think I don't recognize it? I, who have spent my life making pawns of others?_

_Do not think that my actions towards you have been to cage you in such a way. I would not seek to make Leda's daughter a pawn – only to show her by whatever means I may that she has captivated me, and shown me that I am not so controlled a man as I had thought myself._

_I love my son, to be sure, but have done things that make me either the very best of fathers or the very worst. Regardless of intentions, I fear that my actions have made me the latter. I sought the best for him, but I'm beginning to understand that I couldn't even make myself happy, and knew even less what would make him so. _

_Other than Draco, I can't say that there is anyone who can cause much emotion in me. Much affection, or concern. Until you. And now you spurn that affection as though it is as tainted as the Dark Lord himself. Is there nothing about me that you believe still holds some good? Or am I now completely tainted?_

_It tortures me to believe that you think so poorly of me, and yet I still wait anxiously for any word from you. I wait for the slightest hint of regard. I have known desperation in the past, but never felt so shattered._

_Completely yours,_

_Lucius_

Hermione sat there for several minutes before her thoughts once more became coherent. The letter seemed to give her a window into his very soul, and she felt his pain as though it were her own. She wanted to run and hide from him, but equally felt the desire to go to him and hold him as if he were a little child. She had thought that if she still spoke to him, but kept him at a distance, then everything would be alright. She would retain control, and no harm would be done. She failed to account for the idea that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and was now forced to face the fact that it may well be true.

The affection for him that had woven its way into her heart had gone nowhere. She was not nearly so emotional as Lucius seemed to be – a surprising enough notion since he carried himself as though his heart were made of ice – but her own struggles were still no laughing matter. She felt backed into a corner, but unlike a snake she cared too much for the man to strike.

How torn must he be? To apparently care so much and yet go repeatedly before Voldemort and do his bidding? Hermione was no fool. She was fully aware of his being a Death Eater, and all that the name entailed. He was all sweet and caring to her, but that didn't change the fact that he was still causing the pain of others. That was something that she needed so badly to remember. It was vitally important, and yet that part of her thought so little of it when she was standing near him or held one of his letters in her hand.

Reaching up to her neck, Hermione caressed the necklace he had given her. What would he do if it ever warned him of danger to her while he was out doing Voldemort's bidding? Who would he choose? She was beginning to think that, if she asked it of him, Lucius would turn his back on his Dark Lord. How could she do that, though? His life, and that of his family, would be forfeit. He would be reduced to nothing, and she had little confidence that the Order would shelter him. Too many still harbored ill will against him to look with opened eyes if he ever did good.

No, she wouldn't ask that of him, no matter how tempting it might be. Instead she would write him a letter in return, not delaying it or mincing words. She would be honest, as he had been with her, and hope it didn't come back to bite her.

_Lucius,_

_You say that you do not seek to make me your pawn. Perhaps you do not. Instead you have caused such feelings in me that I feel even more at your mercy than a pawn – as if I have no mind of my own and no choice but to keep myself near you. It's a frightening thought, to wish to be at another person's mercy, and I feel as though I would be betraying Leda as well as my friends if I allow myself to indulge in it._

_I will not deny that my actions have been cold at times, but it's not because I lack feeling. If anything, it's because I have too much of it. I don't trust myself in my actions, especially when you are around. Will you now claim that you would not take advantage of my willingness if I were there? Would you hold back for fear I would regret things later or would you convince yourself that we could do as we pleased and I wouldn't need to regret?_

_Soon the summer will be over, and I will not be at leisure to write letters or even visit. I will be busy with my friends and what they stand for – you will be busy with yours and your Dark Lord. What will become of all of this then?_

_Your Lioness _


	10. Chapter 10

Lucius didn't have to wait as long for her letter. It seemed the Gryffindor tactics actually worked – regardless of how Slytherin it had been of him to resort to them. He had been angry when writing his, and the letter did serve to diffuse that anger slightly. It also served to challenge him to work harder for her, regardless of how unintentional that might have been on her part. After all, if you swing something a Slytherin values before him and say that you want to give it to him but just fear the consequences – the one thing you _can_ be sure of and _should_ fear is how determined he will be in pursuing it.

It wasn't that he didn't understand what she meant, or didn't know that it might complicate things for both of them. He wanted her, and he was used to getting what he wanted. She'd enjoy it, he knew he could make sure she would, and so he was left with very few acceptable reasons _not_ to seduce her.

He quickly penned a note to her and cast a few spells over it. His heart raced as he waited for her to receive it, knowing she would be furious with him.

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Hermione was dressed for bed, having given up on the idea of studying. She'd tried for two hours after sending the note to Lucius, but she just couldn't concentrate. She jumped in surprise when she heard tapping on her window, and went quickly to retrieve the note an owl was waiting with.

She looked down at it, at her name written in Lucius' hand, and immediately opened it. As soon as she broke the seal she felt a tug in her stomach and watched her room fade away.

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Lucius looked up at the sound of someone else entering the room and went to help steady her from the force of the portkey. He touched bare, soft skin, and looked down at her in surprise. She was wearing a long shirt that hung loosely on her, extending just below her hips and hinting temptingly and the curves beneath it. For a moment he forgot to breath, but was reminded when he felt the force of her hand across his face.

"How dare you, Lucius?" she screamed angrily.

He was quite glad he'd thought to cast a silencing charm on the room, though it had originally been thought of for different reasons. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I knew you wouldn't come if I just asked and I needed to see you."

"Bloody hell! How could you, Lucius? You insufferable git!"

Lucius thoroughly enjoyed seeing her so upset, regardless of how sorry he _should_ be feeling for it. And he was sorry. Sort of. It was just that the way her eyes gleamed in her anger, going from molten caramel to something even more beautiful and alluring, had an effect on him that went much further south than his regret could manage. She was screaming, but had not yet bothered to put much effort in pulling away from his arms. As he held her tightly he could feel his trousers becoming more and more uncomfortable from the way her soft curves were struggling against him. "I understand why you are so angry with me, Hermione, but please talk to me."

"Talk?" she asked through a clenched jaw, "You want to talk? Fine, then. Start talking!"

"I..." he started, trailing off. He'd been so busy thinking of how to convince her to talk to him that somehow the plan of what exactly to say had slipped his mind. He was a Malfoy, though. He could manage this. "While I fully appreciate your concerns and don't wish to do anything you might regret, I had thought that perhaps there was another side to the argument. Perhaps the way to avoid regret would be by indulging in exactly what frightens you so much."

"Excuse me?" she said, a mixture of shock and residual anger written across her features. "Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?"

"One time, Hermione. Just once," he whispered seductively. "Get it out of your system. We'll both be able to think clearer for it."

His breath warmed her neck and his hands rested on her hips, pulling her closer to him. Her mind was spinning, trying to fight the desire that she had been trying so desperately to contain since their first meeting after Leda's letter. To be truthful, there had always been something about Lucius Malfoy that had been alluring to her, but it had never developed into anything so very dangerous until recently. "How do you think my having sex with you, and all the emotions that would entail for me, would clarify things? Not to mention how much I'd hate myself for taking part in adultery."

"It always comes back to that, doesn't it?" he asked her while searching her expression for some hint that he had hope. "I've begun to wonder if it's not just a convenient excuse for you rather than an actual conflict of morals. You know my situation with Narcissa. You know that my marriage is nothing but an arranged alliance between families. Never have I loved her in that way, and never has she expected me to be faithful although it wouldn't kill you to realize that I have not taken nearly so many witches as rumor would have you believe. Not nearly so many as other wizards in my situation."

"That doesn't change the fact that it is wrong," said Hermione, clinging to her last shreds of determination. More of Leda's words flashed through her mind. _It is intent, not method, which is of greatest import._ She hadn't meant the words for this type of situation, although, for all Hermione knew, perhaps she had. It made her decision more complicated, but simplified it at the same time. Morally it might well be wrong for her to give in to Lucius, but morals were already so tainted and twisted by the situation that there seemed to be no right answer regardless.

Lucius saw pieces of her thoughts flicker in her eyes, and finally she relaxed against him and merely stared at his chest without truly looking at him. She had resigned herself to some decision, though Lucius wasn't completely certain what that decision was. Tentatively, he kissed her forehead, tucking strands of hair behind her ear and out of her face. She looked lovely, and when she made no objection he kissed her again, moving to her cheek, then the tip of nose. When she finally looked him in the eyes he moved just slowly enough to give her an opportunity to refuse him and kissed her lips softly.

At first he was quite gentle, his kiss speaking of affection without demands. When her body relaxed further, though, he deepened it. He sucked on her lower lip, and just barely explored her mouth with his tongue. When she moaned softly he broke away for a moment. "Should I take that as a 'yes'?" he asked with a smile.

She could have said something in return, but Hermione was too busy mourning the loss of his lips against her own. Wrapping her arms around his neck she pulled him closer to her once more, kissing him back in order to show him her desire. One thing could be said for Lucius – he could take a hint. Holding onto her firmly he apparated her to his bedroom, quickly assuring her that they would not be disturbed and moving his hands under her shirt.

"No knickers?" he asked with surprise.

Hermione blushed. "Well, I wasn't expecting anyone to be around to notice."

"I have no complaints, I assure you," he told her, grinning like a schoolboy.

"Umm..." mumbled Hermione, her face growing steadily more crimson. "You should probably know. I've never done this before."

Lucius went quickly through several emotions. The first was surprise that someone as beautiful as she had never been with anyone, though he quickly reminded himself that she was still quite young after all. Next was satisfaction, knowing that it was he that she was giving that gift to, and a certain determination that he would make himself the _only_ man to ever touch her. Finally there was guilt. It was an emotion mostly foreign to Lucius, but he'd encountered it enough in his youth to at least recognize it. How could he take something so precious from her, when, as she had pointed out, he was married to another?

"I hadn't realized," he said softly, "and perhaps through your example Lucius Malfoy has begun to develop a conscious. Are you certain, Hermione? If you have doubts, tell me. I won't pressure you further."

The tenderness in his voice, and the expression on his face which she told herself most certainly could _not_ be what it appeared to be, overwhelmed the doubts that had in fact been lingering in her mind. Whatever he did or did not feel for her, he had shown a respectful side of his personality that allowed her to trust him fully and the ache in her hips reminded her just how much she wanted this. "I'm sure."


	11. Chapter 11

He waited only long enough to reassure himself that she meant her words before crushing her lips with his own, working the shirt off her before starting on his own clothing. He wanted to see and feel every inch of her, and hoped she would want and act on the same desire. Lucius wanted her as badly as he had wanted any woman, and there was something more which he quickly pushed out of his mind to deal with later.

For now he was determined to show her how good it could feel to be with a man. To show her how much of a goddess she was to him. He had decided that she would be his, and though he hadn't quite figured out how to make that a permanent arrangement, he didn't want there to be any doubt in her mind that she wanted only him.

He firmly caressed her soft skin as he trailed hungry kisses down the side of her neck. When he extracted a few more moans from her Lucius moved them to the bed. Hermione was exploring him even as she lay so deceptively submissive below him. Her touch felt so good, but finally he moved her hands above her and whispered in her ear. "Not just yet, lioness. This moment is for you."

Her hands remained above her head but at the sound of his voice her body arched up against him, causing him to groan and take a moment to calm himself. She affected him far too much to make taking their time an easy task, and it was all he could do to restrain himself. There would be time for fast and rough later, he reminded himself repeatedly.

Lucius continued to rain kisses on her, moving from her lips to neck to breasts and back to her lips, eagerly covering every inch in between. His hand slipped down and he slid a finger into her, noting with surprise how tightly her body clenched him even past her virginal barrier. If he hadn't known better, he would have wondered if he would fit at all, but since he did know better he set himself to preparing her to receive him.

It wasn't long before he decided that fingers weren't enough, he just had to have a taste, and gently he worked his way down her body. Her eyes went wide when she realized his intentions, but she said nothing in complaint. When he ran his tongue over her clit and begun to stroke the rest of her with it he felt her thighs shake slightly from his efforts – efforts that he then doubled in order to have her moaning and writhing under him, her hands gripping the sheets.

Only when he felt her body contract around his continuously working fingers did he deem her ready for him. He kissed her softly as he adjusted himself and then thrust in slowly, all the while watching her face carefully. She winced at the initial pain but didn't make a sound. Lucius paused inside her, though his body was demanding motion. He ran his hands along her body while kissing her neck, doing everything he could sooth and relax her. Soon enough she moaned encouragement and he slowly pulled himself almost completely out only to slowly thrust himself back inside. When she began to fully surrender to it all and her hips rose to meet his thrusts he began to pick up the pace.

It was a fairly tame encounter by Lucius' standards, without any of the complicated positions, toys, or techniques he fantasized about teaching her, but that didn't lessen the pleasure for him. The descendant of Leda he had long dreamed of, and in the years since he had first been told the story of Leda he had come up with numerous ideas of how he might one day meet her. Though he couldn't deny to himself that Hermione's identity as the daughter of Leda had initially shocked him, and his opinions on blood status had played their role as well, but as he came to know her Lucius was beginning to find that she was everything he had hoped for. And more. It was unnerving, yet thrilling, and when finally they collapsed into one another's arms he came face to face with the truth of their situation.

Sleep came eventually, with neither even mentioning the idea of Hermione returning straight home. These were stolen moments for both of them, and neither had any intention of wasting it. Day eventually gives way to night, and as the bliss from their encounter wore off Lucius' dreams became filled with horror. He relieved their skirmish in the Department of Ministries from little more than a year before, and as he witnessed one of his fellow Death Eaters aiming their wand at Hermione and saying "Avada—"

"NO!" he shouted, his body launching upright as he woke from the nightmare. He sat there, shaking, as the reality of where he was came back to him.

"Lucius?" said Hermione behind him, sitting up to comfort him though she seemed still half asleep. She ran her fingers through his hair and rested her head on his shoulder, never asking about a dream she knew he wasn't prepared to reveal.

Finally he felt enough at ease to lay back down, holding her tightly in his arms. They never went back to sleep, and instead talked the night away until at last streams of light began to filter through the windows and they could no longer deny that morning was upon them.

"Hermione?" said Lucius softly. "I know... I know that you were right, about us needing to keep our distance. I think last night made me happier than I have been in years, but I won't pressure or trick you into it again. Not if you don't want it. I just..."

"Yes?" she asked, her beautiful caramel eyes staring up at him.

"If this ever ends, and we ever get the chance... I just want you to know that I think a lot of you and I hope you'd be willing to see where this takes us. Whatever it is we have."

Hermione knew that his words must cost him dearly. Malfoy's didn't show tender emotions in front of anyone, much less say such things as he had forced his tongue to speak. It touched her greatly, and brought to the forefront of her mind those thoughts that she too had been entertaining but tried to push away. "I hope we get the chance," she said. "But if we don't, I hope you don't feel the need to doubt that I care. For whatever reason or by whatever cruel twist of fate, I really do care."

They said little else as they rose and dressed, Lucius into a fresh set of clothing and Hermione slipping back into the nightshirt she'd worn when brought there. There were no goodbyes. Neither felt themselves able to say the words. Instead they kissed each other gently and, finally, Hermione disapparated.

When Hermione got home she didn't want to get dressed or think about the coming day. Instead she went to her bed and fell asleep, her blankets pulled tightly around her and her mind imagining that she was still by Lucius' side.

How could things have come to this? And why? It's easy to hate your enemy, to work against them knowing that everything they are and everything they stand for is wrong. How could she do so now? Voldemort was evil, of that she had never doubted. Lucius was wrong to support him, she also knew. But how could she act as she must, in support of Harry and everything she believed in, when she knew that in so doing she might put Lucius in danger? She'd changed the rules by breaking them, and now she had no clear cut idea of right and wrong. No black and white. Hers was a gray, gloomy world, and she never wanted to face the coming day.


	12. Chapter 12

Lucius was consumed with a mix of emotions when Hermione left. On the one hand, he felt a bit guilty knowing how much their night together would complicate things for Hermione. On the other, Lucius was quickly beginning to believe himself in love with the girl. It was a prospect that both frightened and exhilarated him. It was a new sensation to _want_ to put another before him, and yet here he felt it necessary. Lucius found it impossible to fall asleep until he managed to put some of his thoughts on paper.

It was nearly noon when Hermione felt her mother gently shaking her shoulder. "Hermione, are you sick? Hermione? It's not like you to sleep this long."

Hermione blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the light that had been turned on, trying to focus on the words her mother was saying. She'd been interrupted in the middle of a rather lovely dream involving Lucius, strawberries and cream, and a shore side cottage. Oh well. "I couldn't sleep well last night, mum. It was early this morning before I could manage to fall asleep."

Her mother looked at her sympathetically. "This situation about Leda getting to you, Herms?"

"You could say that," said Hermione carefully. "I—"

They were interrupted by the sound of tapping on her window. Hermione recognized one of Lucius' owl and went quickly to let it in, giving him one of the treats she had begun keeping in her room. It hooted happily and flew off after giving her the letter.

"Who is it from?" her mother asked cautiously. She was unaware how often Hermione and Lucius exchanged letters, but knew that her daughter's expression wasn't for her friends Harry or Ron.

"L-- Mr. Malfoy," said Hermione, hoping she'd spoke quick enough to cover her near mistake. She wondered if it really mattered though. So long as her mother didn't know she had been gone all night, it would all be fine.

"Ah," said her mother, smiling. "Taking you under his wing, is he? He's so charming, and that's terribly kind of him. So unlike his son that you have told me about."

Hermione chose not to correct her mother's assumption. After all, the distinction wasn't all that important. Or rather, it was, and therefore she was doubly grateful for not having to come up with an explanation on her own.

Soon enough, though it seemed to Hermione as though it was an eternity, her mother left to go begin fixing their lunch. She dressed quickly, using her remaining time to read Lucius' letter. A part of her suggested checking for any spells that might turn it into a portkey, but for the most part Hermione couldn't help but believe he would keep his word not to do so again. Ripping into it, she settled back on her bed to read.

_Lioness,_

_I have done a lot of thinking since you left me this morning, and there are some things which I feel must be said. You were completely correct in thinking that what we shared last night was a bad idea. That is not to say that I regret it, or that I didn't enjoy it – both would be very much inaccurate. _

_The fact of the matter is that it greatly complicates our respective situations, and I would venture to state that neither of us can afford such a complication. I have come to the conclusion that it is in our best interests to cease communication for a time, both to cool whatever feelings are compromising us and to deal with our separate obligations as we ought._

_Tell me your opinion, for if you feel my reasoning to be in error I would greatly favor any viable alternative._

_Please know that, whatever side we may be on, I hold you in the very highest regard and hope you reciprocate that feeling. If my affiliations ruin your regard before this war is over, then I accept it as it is no better than I deserve. _

_I hope that will not be the case._

_Yours, as always,  
Lucius_

Her heart felt numb by the last line. Though she wanted to come up with some excuse as to why it was not necessary, she knew he was right. There was no way for her to keep in contact with a Death Eater when she joined Harry and Ron in a few weeks without exposing them to danger, just as Lucius attempting to keep in contact with her would most assuredly put both him and his family in danger. There was nothing to do but agree, even if she didn't want to.

It was a short note she wrote and sent back with the owl that she found had actually waited outside her window for a reply. It seemed to like her, and was perfectly happy waiting all day for her orders. The note was also simple, with no endearments or formalities. It was only two lines.

_Now, perhaps more than ever, I hope this war ends soon. _

_Be safe._

After giving the owl her note and bidding him farewell, Hermione joined her mother for lunch. Her mood wasn't particularly cheerful, but it was easy enough to blame it on exhaustion. She would just have to get used to hiding her feelings, for she doubted missing Lucius would get better very quickly.

Lucius slept only two hours before one of his house elves came to wake him. It would be a busy day, and he'd known all along that one of the costs of his night with Hermione would be exhaustion. By the afternoon, though, Lucius' energy was starting to wane and it made him feel old to be so seriously considering a nap. Instead he just pushed forward and set about his work as rapidly as possible, hoping that if he didn't think about the exhaustion then maybe he wouldn't feel it so strongly.

His efforts were interrupted by the return of one of his owls bearing a note for him. It took only seconds to open and read it. It took much longer to recover from it. The words were all he could have hoped for, quite likely more than he _should_ have hoped for, and yet it was filled with disappointment. He'd felt compelled to write his words from the morning, but he'd hoped beyond reason that Hermione would have some excuse for why they shouldn't cease contact. He felt like he was back in school and with his first real crush. It was maddening.

What could he truly hope for, though? Hermione was Harry Potter's best friend, and as such a wrong move could result in her death. He was a Death Eater, a choice from which there was no escape but death. If her side won, he would be dead or in Azkaban. If his won, she would be dead. Neither was a conclusion Lucius wished to dwell on, but neither did he completely cease his attempts to form a solution.

There were certain things that Lucius, as a Malfoy, did exceedingly well. One of those was to extricate himself from any compromising situation without loss to his reputation. It was a time to use that gift well, and he fully intended to do so. While his mind was primarily spent in taking care of the Manor, managing his investments, and doing his Dark Lord's bidding, deep down it never stopped searching for his way of escape. In the mean time, he would do what little he could keep himself safe, and everything possible to make sure Hermione stayed so.

That night, after a very long day of pretending, Hermione stretched out on her bed with yet another stack of Leda's papers and artifacts. As she went through them one by one, her hand froze over a notation scribbled in Leda's hand on what looked to be her family tree.

_The name Tom Riddle is etched in my mind when I wake each morning, though I don't know who this person is or will be – he somehow seems connected to my sister, Althaea, and her husband Marvolo. _

Hermione felt cold. Not from the room around her, but a chill in her soul that quickly spread through her body. Marvolo. She'd studied everything she could get her hands on about Voldemort in order to aid Harry, and at that moment she was very much afraid, and very much convinced, that this Marvolo could only be Marvolo Gaunt, Tom Riddle's grandfather.

Of all those in the wizarding world or out of it, there were few others Hermione had such little desire to be related to. What did that make him? Her cousin or something? As Hermione pondered the term for their relation, her horror only grew greater and greater.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: This chapter brings everyone up to date with the story, and is written for Monnbeam, who wanted to see Remus in the story. :)_

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By morning, Hermione wanted badly to write, or better yet, to visit, Lucius and ask him what exactly he knew of Leda's - and therefore her - connection to Voldemort. That is what Hermione the Gryffindor would have done just months, if not weeks, previously. This new Hermione, however, the young woman with traits from all houses - Gryffindor and Slytherin in particular - knew better.

First of all, she had already asked Lucius what he knew of Leda, and never had he mentioned any connection to Voldemort. If he didn't know, then perhaps this wasn't the time to suggest it to him, and if he did, then obviously he had decided not to inform her of it. The fact that she did to an extent trust Lucius didn't mean she was oblivious to his devious qualities, and neither did she believe herself to be an exception to them. The matter of his Vow was something to consider, but Hermione had a feeling that when asked for information he would still find a way to lie by omission or some such tactic. She was getting better with subtlety and cunning, but didn't feel herself quite at the level to counter _him_.

Surely, though, being related to Voldemort _had_ to present some sort of benefit. Didn't it? She didn't for one second believe it would keep him from killing her or ordering one of his minions to do so, but thought that there had to be at least some form of a benefit to her.

With these thoughts in mind, Hermione continued to devour what texts she'd received from Leda and made several trips to Flourish & Blotts for additional reference material. What she really wanted was to check the bookstores in Knockturn Alley, but didn't feel up to going on her own and neither did she know who she could ask for such a favor without surrendering what little advantage she had. What she did do, so far as she was able without someone to help her, was increase her knowledge and skill of Occlumency. To think that her secrets could be so easily betrayed by someone just looking her in the eyes scared her, and Hermione began to wish that Professor Snape had given her, not Harry, those lessons in it.

Eventually, however, it was time to say goodbye to her family and prepare to fully enter the wizarding world once more. She waited until the last possible day to alter her parent's memories, sending them to live in Australia for a time. She hated to do it, but hated more to think that they would become a target because they were _her_ parents. Her last night at home was spent all alone, and her last morning in creating wards to protect it while she and her parents were away.

She met the Weasley's at the Leaky Cauldron at ten in the morning, all her necessary belongings in a bag she had charmed to hold almost anything. That is to say, she was there at ten in the morning. The Weasley's arrived at ten twenty-seven, with Mrs. Weasley still lecturing Fred regarding one of his and George's latest pranks.

They all exchanged quick hugs, with Ron going red in the face after his and muttering something about her looking "right pretty, for 'Mione." She wondered if that was supposed to be a compliment, but left it alone.

Everyone spent the day in Diagon Alley doing their shopping for the upcoming school year of Ginny, Ron, and Hermione's. Neither Ron nor Hermione had the heart to break it to Molly that they wouldn't be going, and they knew full well that mentioning it would result in their plans being ruined. For all that Harry was The Boy Who Lived, chosen to defeat Voldemort, and Ron and Hermione were his friends who followed him everywhere – somehow the Order still expected the Golden Trio to leave matters to the adults and only emerge from underneath their rocks for the final battle. Like hell they would.

She did make use of her shopping day to some degree, though, and by the time they had returned to the Burrow and Hermione had been sent on to 12 Grimmauld Place she had a plan fully formed.

It didn't take long to find her old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher among the many members of the Order currently staying in the Black's ancestral home. Remus Lupin had come out of his shell for some, especially Tonks, but remained quiet and reserved in most cases. Of all those "adults" in the order, it seemed to Hermione that he would be the one to sympathize with her. Her plan would succeed or fail based on how she approached him with it.

"Professor Lupin?" she said softly when she found him curled up in the library with a book.

He looked up and smiled slightly. "Just Remus, Miss Granger. I'm not your professor anymore."

"Remus, then," she continued, "and you should call me Hermione. I was hoping you could help me with something."

Remus closed his book and set it on a nearby table. "Of course, Hermione. What seems to be the problem?"

Looking around, Hermione cast a quick silencing spell and another to alert her if anyone approached the room. "I learned something about myself and my family over break, and I'm not entirely sure how to handle it. I'm not exactly comfortable talking about it, because I don't want it to get out, but felt like I needed to regardless."

Remus nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"You see," Hermione said carefully, "I do feel like I could trust you above others. Even so, though, I was wondering if you might be willing to make an oath not to reveal what I told you. I know several spells to do it that don't require a third person as the Unbreakable Vow does."

He was quiet for a few minutes, but finally spoke. "As a general rule, I refrain from taking vows that are bound by magic. When I do, I refrain from doing so without full knowledge of what exactly I am vowing to do. You are asking me to do exactly that."

That wasn't exactly the response she had hoped for, but neither was it unexpected. He just needed a little convincing. "It's nothing bad though, and this would make me more comfortable."

"Then it must be on my terms," said Remus. "I will vow to keep your secrets so long as they pose no harm to Harry or the Order."

"As far as I am aware," she told him, "they aren't connected to either, and certainly would do them more good than anything."

Remus agreed, and it didn't take long for the appropriate spell to be done and the silencing spells to be checked. She then proceeded to tell him the whole story. Or at least most of it. Most of the details she thought he needed to know, that is.

"My mother gave me a letter written by my great-great-grandmother, Leda," Hermione explained. "It would seem that, though I still consider myself Muggleborn in most respects, if you go back to Leda you find that she was a Pureblood Witch."

He nodded patiently, though she thought she saw something akin to recognition enter his eyes. "Leda is not a common name," he said. "Do you know her surname?"

Hermione was quiet for a moment. "Atreus."

Oh yes, it was definitely recognition. "That would explain a lot about you, then," said Remus eventually. "I don't believe that Purebloods are superior, Hermione, but it has always been surprising to most just how competent a Witch you are for a Muggleborn. The name of Leda Atreus is known to me, and I would fully expect any descendant of hers to be powerful. The most shocking part is that, from how you explained things, it would seem her child was a squib. She was not known to have any children at all, though I suppose to Purebloods that can equate to the same thing."

"You've heard of her?" asked Hermione, surprised. "I haven't found her name in any of my books."

"You would be hard pressed to find it in anything Flourish & Blotts might have," he said, wincing at the words. "While she was highly respected by many, there are few that would openly discuss her."

Hermione had known Leda to be a Slytherin, but she could think of no reason Leda's name would be so taboo. "Why is that?"

"The majority of Leda's powers were in the realm of divination," Remus explained. "But the commonly accepted restrictions to that art didn't seem to apply to her. She did things, knew things, which should have been impossible. It frightened people, and after Voldemort's first rise and people became even more suspicious, it was believed her ability must have resulted from Dark Arts."

"So to read of her I would have to go somewhere that had books on the dark arts and other, less acceptable, topics?" asked Hermione carefully. The conversation was quickly leading to where she had hoped, but she still needed Remus to agree.

"In theory," he said simply.

"So a careful trip to a bookstore in Knockturn Alley might be a good place to start?" she asked hopefully.

Remus was silent for a minute. Very silent. "You are of age, Hermione, or I wouldn't even consider it. As it is I can understand your curiosity, and your desire for answers. I will agree so long as you wear a glamour, dress carefully to blend in, and obey every order I give you while we are there. If I say a place is too dangerous we will leave immediately."

Hermione grinned and threw her arms around him. "Thank you so much, Remus. I'm so excited I can hardly think! It's even better than the Restricted Section at Hogwarts!"

"We will go first thing in the morning," he said when he'd finally managed to peel her arms off his neck. "For now, get some sleep."

Walking towards the door, Hermione began to feel a bit guilty. Oh, she was becoming more Slytherin every day, but she still had a conscience. It bothered her that she was asking so much of him, but telling him so little of the truth.

Turning around to face him, she decided that even though she wasn't prepared to discuss the topic of Lucius Malfoy, she could still tell Remus the other part that bothered her. "Did you know Leda had a sister?"

Remus had just picked his book back up, and didn't seem to think much of the question. "I never heard of her, though it's not surprising to me."

"Yes, well, her name was Althaea and she married Marvolo Gaunt," said Hermione. "Althaea was Voldemort's grandmother."

That got his attention. His eyes shot up from the book and straight to Hermione. "So you, however distantly, share the same blood as Tom Riddle?"

"Something like that," said Hermione, trying to smile about it. "Well, goodnight. I'll see you in the morning."


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning came soon enough and Hermione found Remus to be very much a man of his word. She was up and ready before seven, and found him already dressed and downstairs having coffee. His clothing was, if possible, even more subdued than usual. He had managed to master the art of looking so average that he would never be noticed in a crowd.

It was a good skill to have, and Hermione managed it quite decently if she did say so herself. She had transfigured dark grey robes and an earthy sage green cloak to go over it. At first she'd thought to wear all black, but quickly realized just how well true black stood out. She knew Remus would be working out a suitable glamour for both of them, but had still smoothed her hair back into a sleek ponytail and added a touch of makeup that would make even her friends do a double take before recognizing her. She grinned in amusement when she saw Remus raise his eyebrow at the sight of her and offer a slight nod of approval.

They gave their excuses to the others, citing extra lessons Remus was giving Hermione in some completely random and uninteresting area of magical history. She found it ironic and very nearly insulting how easily everyone accepted the excuse. Come to think of it, she could be going out in a mini skirt and stripper heels and they'd probably never doubt her studious nature.

Hermione quickly devoured every sight to be had the moment they entered Knockturn Alley. As terrible as she knew it would sound if she ever needed to explain it, she found the danger of the place exciting, and the idea of forbidden or dark knowledge wasn't unappealing. She followed Remus' directions to the letter. She stayed glued to his side, and kept her expression nearly blank. He had done a good job with the glamour, proclaiming that it would take someone very near in love with her to ever see through it, but even so he had instructed her on behavior.

It didn't take long to come to one of the small, dark shops that Remus deemed the best place to start her search. As Hermione glanced over their selection two things happened at once. First of all, she became very excited by titles she'd never had the opportunity to read before. Second, she became very grateful she'd thought to bring plenty of galleons for her purchases. Remus offered to carry any of her selections while she continued to look, and seemed to slightly regret the suggestion when he began carrying around a quickly growing stack of books. Some were books where she hoped to find answers about Leda and the questions connected to her, and some were simply topics she couldn't pass up the opportunity to study.

By the time she was done and the shopkeeper was calculating everything she had chosen _The Limitations of Divination_, which Remus told her might include more on Leda's strangely powerful ability, _A History of Dark Foresight_, which he had not suggested but Hermione felt drawn to, _Advancing In Nonverbal and Wandless Magic, _another rather heavy text entitled _Rosier's Spell Creation Techniques and Theory_, her very own copy of _Moste Potente Potions_, and about fifteen other books of varying subject matter. Remus seemed to be in physical pain when he heard the amount of three hundred seventy-six galleons and nine sickles. Hermione, however, knew herself to have plenty to spare and felt the books well worth the cost, so silently enlarged her money pouch and used magic to count out the money.

He said nothing as he watched her magically shrink her purchases and slip them in her pocket, but when Hermione turned to him and asked "Where to next?" he just shook his head and walked out. When they were out on the street she noticed they were heading back towards Diagon Alley and apparently going home, but said nothing of it. She'd gotten enough reading material to last her a couple of weeks, after all.

"Almost four hundred galleons and you don't even blink," Remus said finally. "Is there something you aren't telling us?"

Hermione tried not to grin, though she knew she was failing miserably. "Leda may have left me a Gringott's account with a little money to help me out."

"More than a little, I'd wager," he said softly, though left the subject alone.

Once back at 12 Grimmauld Place, Hermione decided a little more field research was needed before she launched straight into the texts. That in mind, she found a phone and called her mother.

"Hello?" came her mother's voice from the other end of the line. It soothed nerves Hermione hadn't known were bothering her.

"Hi mum. I've missed you."

"Hermione?" her mother said, voice concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, perfect," said Hermione quickly. "I just wondered if you knew more about how we are related to Leda...for my research. What was your mother's maiden name? And your grandmothers?"

Her mother's tone instantly seemed more at ease. "Ah... yes, I can tell you that, although I never knew my grandmother and my mother spoke little of her childhood. My mother was born Themis Black, and my father was Thomas Roberts. Her mother was Calliope Atreus, who married... uh... oh yes, Phoenix Black. I always thought it was a strange name, but that's what mum told me."

"Black?" asked Hermione, interested. "Are you sure?"

"Very sure, my dear. And of course, Calliope's mother was Leda. Although I can't say as I remember hearing who her father was. That's more or less all I know."

"It's great, mum. Thanks. I bought some books today that I'm hoping to find information in, but I was afraid that I'd miss things if I didn't know all the necessary names."

She quickly said her goodbyes and double checked to make sure she'd written everything down. _Black? Surely not. Could I have some blood relation to the 'Noble House of Black'?_ It was all a great deal to consider, and it seemed that as soon as she absorbed some new piece of material there were five more facts thrown in her path. Leda, the dark diviner. Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort. And now Phoenix, of the House of Black. Between unknown relations and attraction to one of her enemies, she was quickly discovering ties to what seemed like half the wizarding world. Was that the point, though? Did these connections hint at Leda's true motives? She wasn't sure, but intended to find out.

Over the next couple weeks, Hermione devoured every book she had bought and even made a couple more trips for additional material. She had come no closer to her answers, but had found a great many more questions. The time came, though, for her to depart with Harry and Ron. She packed a great many books to take with her, as well as what seemed like everything but the kitchen sink. Between a charmed back and shrinking spells, Hermione was rather pleased with how much she managed to take. After all, it was better to be prepared than to need something and not have it.

Being all alone with the boys could have been worse, but it also could have been a lot better. There were times she thought they were doing alright, and then they would do something to convince her of how truly helpless they would be without guidance. Honestly, does it take that large of a brain to erect a tent or place protective spells on a campsite? She supposed it must, if they were any indication.

There were so many close calls. So many near captures, desperate escapes. Hermione had known their luck could only hold out for so long, but she had hoped it would just be a little longer. One minute everything was fine, the next Fenrir Greyback had caught her, and the next she was waking up in a large, dark room.

She heard the sound of light feet walking heavily across the floor, circling her. She heard cackling laughter that told of the insanity within. As her eyes adjusted, and the flame of the fireplace became enough to see by, Hermione recognized the horrifying figure of Bellatrix Lestrange. "Is the little Mudblood frightened?" Bellatrix asked playfully, her eyes dancing and her body held in an almost animal manner.

"Frightened?" returned Hermione, her voice seething with contempt. "Of you? Surely you must be joking. Tell me, Bellatrix, how it was that you became a Death Eater? Was it the money you brought to the cause, or your animal-like urge to spread your legs?"

It was playing with fire, Hermione knew. But then, she had developed a taste for that, however ill advised it might be. Bellatrix's eyes widened in rage, and she screamed "_CRUCIO!"_

As Hermione's world melted into overwhelming sensation of pain and she felt her body contort in unhuman manners, she saw the figure of Lucius Malfoy turn and walk from the room. His face was devoid of emotion, his manner unconcerned. Could this truly be the same man who she had given herself to not so very long ago? The pain of the Cruciatus became unimportant as Hermione felt her heart shatter into pieces.


	15. Chapter 15

Lucius winced as he heard Hermione's cries ringing out through the halls of Malfoy Manor. He had felt his hand twitch as he held his wand and it had been all he could manage not to kill Bellatrix on the spot. Hermione was _his_. His lioness. His and his alone.

It took scarcely longer to carry out his plan than it took to formulate it. He was learning from experience what great motivation the love of another could be. For her, he would risk a great deal.

Hermione found herself scarcely able to move from round after round of Bellatrix's fury. Any sane person would be groveling at the dark woman's feet, begging mercy and offering anything she wished. Perhaps that meant Hermione wasn't sane, for her spirit refused to break and insults kept pouring from her lips.

"How goes it, Bellatrix?" she heard the voice of Lucius, who had returned some time during the most recent crucio. She never got to hear the woman's reply, for she found herself suddenly in another room.

It was smaller, though still larger than her bedroom at home. The walls were painted a rich burgundy, with gold tapestries and rich woods filling it. A bed was soft beneath her, and she felt a small bottle being pressed against her lips.

"The miss must drink this," said a figure Hermione soon saw to be a house elf. "The master commands. It will help you."

"Lucius?" she asked, her voice sounding foreign to her. It was deep and hoarse, a mere shadow of herself.

"I'm here," he answered her, stepping out of the shadows.

Hermione heard screams coming from another part of the Manor. "Lucius, what is going on?"

"The dark lord has given Bella permission to torture you for information," he told her in between those piercing screams of what sounded like a young girl. A girl that sounded remarkably like Hermione. "I couldn't stand by and watch you die from the torture. Bellatrix is mad. She would not stop before you were completely broken."

"What did you do?" she asked him, not sure what horrors were still to befall her or the reason for their sudden pause.

He winced and sat beside her on the bed, cradling her body in his arms. "I did what I had to. You will be safe here, and that is all you need to know. Stay here, and I will come get you when it is safe for you to leave. My house elves will be bringing you everything you need, and they have strict orders from me to tell no one that you are here."

She stared at him, not saying a word.

"Please, Hermione? Stay here? It won't help anyone if you leave, and it will only put you in further danger."

She nodded, finally agreeing. "Fine, Lucius, I will stay. But you will tell me everything later."

"I promise," he said, kissing her on her forehead.

For once, she didn't object.

Hermione slept off and on for what the elves told her was three days. She heard more screams, and the clamor of battle, then all went silent. During her waking hours she thought more of everything she was learning. She would have to look through the Black family records, if she ever got the opportunity. With this further complication, she was even more satisfied that she'd had the chance to call her mother. The memory charm would be complete soon, and the subtle workings of the charm she had chosen would make any questioning of her mother impossible without fully reversing it.

Who could Phoenix Black have been? A wizard who chose, for whatever purpose, to live as a muggle? A squib that was disinherited by their family and had no choice but to leave the wizarding world? She was leaning towards the latter of the two, but still wanted confirmation.

And where the bloody hell was Lucius? He promised to come back and explain but here, three days later, he was yet to show. The git.

The house elves were her only company, and they said little except to ensure she ate and took the potions they brought for her. She felt a good deal better, but knew it would be a long time before she recovered from the Unforgivable's effects.

As she stirred on the morning of the fourth day, Hermione felt the warmth of another person laying with her. "Lucius?"

"Yes, my lioness," he said softly. "How are you feeling?"

Hermione turned to face him and quickly took in the pallor of his skin and dark circles under his eyes. "I'm better, but what has happened? When was the last time you slept?"

He pulled her closer to him, kissing her "I tried last night, but I found myself just watching you all night. Other than that it would be the night before you were captured."

"So let's have it," she said firmly. "You were going to tell me what happened."

"Ah, yes," he very nearly groaned. "That. Promise to hear me out and try not to be angry?"

Hermione just raised an eyebrow and glared at him. Her expression spoke volumes – _I want to know and you _will_ tell me now._

"I couldn't see you like that," he said softly. "I didn't know before what Bellatrix had been ordered to do. If I'd known, I would have stopped it sooner. As it was..."

"Yes?" she asked, hoping very much that she didn't know where he was going with this.

"You had been so badly tortured that your body was covered in blood and bruises. I found...a girl... to replace you with when she wasn't looking. When I came back in the room to ask how it was going. The girl would have died anyway, she was one of the Dark Lord's many muggle prisoners. I made her look enough like you that Bellatrix would never realize..."

"Oh, Lucius. Do you mean that a girl is dead in order to save me?"

He closed his eyes a minute while forming a response. "She was as good as dead, Hermione, the moment she was captured. I did what I had to do to save you from that fate."

"And now?"

"Now I will ensure you arrive safely back with the Order. They don't need to know how you came to escape. You weren't to be found when they attacked a couple days ago, and we should be able to come up with an acceptable story."

"So you save me only to send me away again?" she asked him, tone playful despite the seriousness of her question. "I already know you hold back a lot. What might there about me, and Leda, that you haven't said?"

"Very little," he said through gritted teeth, not happy to have accusations thrown at him when he had taken such great risk to save her. Sometimes her thinking just didn't make sense. "I know somewhat about Leda, that her powers were near unnaturally great. I know that love for her caused my family to be bound in an Unbreakable Vow, and my love for you causes you to not need that Vow to get whatever aid I might provide."

"But how—"

The surest way to shut someone up was to kiss them. Assuming they were to enjoy it, that is. If they don't, then you are in for even more of an earful than before. Luckily for Lucius, Hermione melted under his kiss. Those weeks since they had seen each other last had seemed far longer than they had been, and both had felt it.

She relaxed into his arms, and he pulled her closer to him. He brushed the hair out of her face and she buried her hands in his. Her legs spread slightly to allow him to lay on top of her more comfortably. They kissed and caressed until his hands began to drift lower.

There is a moment in every situation when a decision must be made, and even the lack of one is a decision in itself. Past this point, there is no turning back. This time, Hermione made her decision. She turned back.

"No, Lucius," she said. "We can't do this again."

His face betrayed his disappointment, and to release her now was like a slow torture, but he didn't argue. She meant too much to him to cause regrets for her later. "Then," he answered slowly, "I suppose we ought to start planning how to return you."


	16. Chapter 16

The next morning Hermione woke to find Lucius gone and a note left for her by the bed with breakfast that had been charmed to stay warm for her.

_Lioness,_

_The floo has been opened. The house elves have instructions to help you with anything you may need, and Malfoy Manor will always be open to you._

_Regardless of whatever comes...know that I love you. Be safe._

_Lucius_

Hermione dressed quickly in her clothes that had been cleaned and set out for her. She cast a spell over the note to hide the contents from any but her, folded it, and placed it in the pocket of her clothes. The room she was in had a fireplace and there was a small bowl of floo powder sitting next to it.

Taking a large handful, she spoke loudly.

She fell through the fireplace and landed in 12 Grimmauld Place. Hermione hadn't been sure the floo would be open at all, and was grateful to find that she could still gain access. It didn't take long to be noticed by those gathered in the house – among whom were Harry, Ron, Remus, Mr. Weasley, and Tonks. They barely gave her the chance to take a breath before telling her version of events and how she had escaped.

"'Mione, we were worried sick!" exclaimed Ron. "Where the bloody hell have you been?"

"We tried to come rescue you," added Tonks, "but you were nowhere to be found."

Mr. Weasley and others added their own comments and concerns, while Remus stood in the background and studied her quietly. She felt his eyes on her, but trusted him not to ask while the others were present. He'd known there were things about her she had chosen not to reveal with the rest – he just didn't realize what exactly those were.

"Bellatrix cursed me repeatedly using the cruciatus," Hermione said, carefully slowing her speech and purposefully stumbling over her words. Lucius had coached her carefully on this, and she did not plan to waste the effort. "It hurt...more than I could have ever imagined before. I managed to convince her that the sword of Gryffindor was a mere fake, and bided my time. She grew weary and distracted, and I used the moment to drag myself from the room. I ran and hid. It... it was so hectic and I was so scared that I managed to get lost in the manor, and hid in an out of the way bedroom. I couldn't find the strength to call out when I heard you there, and then I passed out. When I woke... it had been all but abandoned, the Death Eaters gone to wherever their master is hiding. I found floo powder, and seemed to have just enough luck left that I managed to find the floo open. It would seem that all the manor's defenses were broken or altered when you broke it, and the Malfoys have yet to redo them."

There were many questions, and some of her answers were a bit on the dubious side of things. Yet they seemed to buy it, so very happy to have their Hermione back that there was no doubt of her honesty. They offered to find a magical physician to examine her for damage from the curse, but she tactfully refused. She felt fine, she said, and at any rate the damage was done now.

She groaned inwardly when Remus cornered her a few days later. It had really been too easy, and she was a fool to think she'd gotten off that easily. "Yes, Remus? Spit it out, already, I know you are aching to ask me something."

Remus only sighed for a moment, considering her words and his own thoughts. Finally, though, he found his tongue. "Luck only goes so far, Hermione. There is more to this. Tell me now the truth, before my mind finds false answers to satisfy it."

She led him into another room, going to the wall where the Black family tree could be found. "I didn't have time to look before I was captured, but now I know. This spot is faded, not like the burned spots of supposed blood traitors. There is just enough left to make out 'Phoenix.' That was my grandfather. A squib from the house of Black."

"When I was younger," said Remus eventually, "I asked Sirius about the names that were obstructed on this tree. Even he had a hard time speaking of it. If your family is mostly squibs, there won't be much you can learn of them."

"There is more, but you can't tell anyone," she said fiercely.

He sunk down into a nearby chair and looked calmly at her. "I've already been keeping your secrets. I will continue to. I merely wish to know what sort of secrets it is that I keep."

Could she confide this much in him? The thought frightened her, but in a very different way relieved her. She was no stranger to secrets, but had always hated them. The idea of having a confidant with which she could speak of Lucius was sorely tempting. But how would he take it? Could Remus handle the knowledge without prejudice? Or would he think her a foolish young girl, easily seduced by Lucius' bad boy personality? If he only knew the side of Lucius that she knew, he would understand. He'd have to.

But perhaps it would be easier to do so a little at a time.

"Leda did what she could to make things easier for me. She went to a close friend, a pureblood, and convinced them to give her their oath. Actually, it was an Unbreakable Vow. According to the vow, he was to tell the story to all of his children, and they to theirs. They were all to bind themselves to this vow. By it, I, as the descendant of Leda, may ask anything of them in her name and they are bound to do it without limitation."

His eyebrow rose, and he seemed more than a little impressed. "And what is this pureblood line that is so bound to you?"

"The Malfoys."

"Ahhh..." he said slowly, recognition giving new light to his eyes. "So that is how you escaped? You used the Vow against them?"

"Not exactly," Hermione said. "I have spoken to Lucius Malfoy somewhat over the past few months. I wanted to learn more about Leda, and know whether the Vow had survived the generations. In the end I learned he has a conscience, and it was his conscience and not his Vow that led him to save me. I never had the opportunity to ask him using the Vow, so without his making the decision I would have been dead regardless."

Remus took a deep breath, processing the information slowly. "Lucius Malfoy with a conscience," he said eventually, the hint of a growl touching his voice. "I'm happy to see you alive, Hermione. I just never would have expected his conscience would be enough that he would work against Voldemort."

"I don't understand the situation fully either, but I'm grateful," she said. The words were all true, though her meaning was different than how she knew he'd take them. It didn't matter, though. No one needed to know that Lucius claimed to be in love with her, or that she... believed the feeling might be mutual. It didn't matter, because at the end of the day he was still married and they were still on opposite sides.

"Be careful," said Remus. "If you need anything, tell me. Don't take risks on your own just because you have one Death Eater on your side.

"I'll be as careful as I can be," Hermione answered softly.

The higher ranking Death Eaters had banded together on the Lestrange property for the moment, planning to move on to another stronghold before the ministry found them. Voldemort had gone into hiding, leaving them with his orders and planning to resurface when the time was right. Some left each other alone, others spent time in conversation. It left everyone with time to think. Too much of it.

Lucius watched his son mingle with the rest, Draco's hair hanging loosely about his face and his expression set in a permanent sneer. What have I done to make my son so unhappy? He knew the answer, and it made him grimace.

"Draco?" he said when his son made his way over towards his father.

"Yes?" Draco's face seemed surprised, as if he had expected his father to ignore him. Truth be told, Lucius _had_ been quiet lately. Quieter than normal.

Lucius led him into a side room and quickly placed silencing spells around them. He sighed. "I need something from you, my son."

"Of course, father," Draco said formally. He was on guard, and Lucius couldn't blame him for it. He had taught his son well. Perhaps too well, in some ways.

"You remember the Vow I had you take the day before you left for your first year at Hogwarts?" Lucius asked carefully. He remembered the day as if it were yesterday. He had told Draco of Leda, and the family's duty to her, gotten him to take the Vow, and then they had never mentioned it again. Until now, that is. He wondered how suspicious his son must be because he had brought up such a subject, and directly, no less.

"Yes..." Draco said, still careful. "What about it?"

"I need a further vow."

"I see," said Draco flatly. "What would that vow be?"

"To protect the daughter of Leda, first and foremost."

Draco stared at him. "Why do I get the feeling you are hiding knowledge from me? Waiting until I take the Vow to spring the daughter's identity upon me?"

"Because that's exactly what I'm doing," Lucius said bluntly. There was no point in lying.

"I see," Draco answered evenly. "I will agree under one condition – you tell me her identity first."

"You won't like it," Lucius warned. "You won't want to take the Vow if you know."

Draco's response was straightforward and no nonsense. "I'd rather take a Vow I didn't want with full knowledge than in ignorance, only learning later what I've done."

"I can respect that. I only fear for us all, but you would have to learn eventually regardless." Lucius took a deep breath before continuing, and reinforced his silencing spells. It wasn't as if anything would have happened to break them, but risking Hermione was one of the last things he was willing to do. He only decided to tell Draco in order to protect him further. Had he doubted Draco's family loyalty, he never would have made the decision. "It's Hermione."

"I'm sorry. Who?" asked Draco, dumbfounded. It wasn't that a Hermione didn't come to mind when his father said the name. It was that it was beyond his initial comprehension to believe that she could possibly be who his father spoke of.

"The know-it-all Gryffindor you so despised when growing up," Lucius clarified.

Draco laughed. "Despised, indeed. But how?"

"Her family isn't muggles. Not fully," his father explained. "She has several squibs, and her great-great-grandmother was Leda herself. She has quite the personality, hidden behind her 'know-it-all' ways."

"Oh, I know," said Draco ruefully. "There was a time when all I wanted was her attention, though I hid behind insults to get it. I think now I've grown up enough to accept that the feeling isn't mutual and moved on. Our disdain for mudbloods helped with that, I think."

Lucius grimaced at his sons wording, but only after his eyes had widened slightly. "I would prefer you didn't use that term unless there were Death Eaters present. Only for appearances, and our family's safety, will I permit it."

His son's eyes really did widen, and missed nothing of his father's affection for her. "Something you want to tell me, father? I know you and mother have only mutual respect. Could it be I'm not the only Malfoy to notice her?"

"That may well be," said Lucius, coughing uncomfortably. "The Atreus women have always been appealing to us. The point is, I am a married man, and respect her too much to ask her to be a mere mistress. I just want her safe."

"You're a married man?" repeated Draco questioningly. "Since when is such a trivial detail enough to stop you? Could it be that you have already pursued her and been rejected?"

Lucius stared at him blankly, refusing to answer. There is much he would confide in Draco if it meant her safety, but such a thing was not something he deemed necessary.

"Alright," said Draco after sensing that nothing would draw the answer out. "I'll do it."


	17. Chapter 17

The Order was hovering.

That is to say that every time Hermione looked up from her book there would be two or three Order members who just _happened_ to be hanging around. They all felt sorry she had been captured, and had resorted to smothering her in an attempt to make up for it. Granted, they were under the impression that she'd had to suffer more rounds of the cruciatus than was strictly accurate, but it still irritated Hermione to no end.

The worst part was that she couldn't verbalize her objections because no one would openly admit to what they were doing. So in the two hours she had been sitting at the kitchen table reading _Rosier's Spell Creation Techniques and Theory, _one of the books she'd obtained in Knockturn Alley.

Tonks had spent the entire time at the end of the table reading magazines. She was amusing herself by imitating the looks she saw on models then changing her hair color or some other aspect to make their appearance look absurd. It was like Tonk's personal version of using _Riddikulus_ on a boggart.

Remus spent a good half hour leaning against the counter watching Tonks, a slight smile playing across his lips. He eventually left in search of solitude.

Ginny was thoroughly amused by Tonks' antics and watched them at every opportunity in between assisting her mother with preparing enough food to feed an entire army. Every time Mrs. Weasley finished preparing something for later, she would take one not so subtle glance in Hermione's direction and decide that it couldn't hurt to have more food.

Ron was continuously finding excuses to walk through, having made three separate trips for sandwiches since Hermione opened her book.

As if those distractions weren't enough, Mr. Weasley had been in once to ask Hermione about the use of muggle waffle irons, Minerva McGonagall had dropped by to check on Hermione's independent transfiguration studies, and Fred and George had used the small gathering as an opportunity to test out their newest products.

After all the company, Hermione had finally had enough. _Well_, she decided, _if they won't openly admit to hovering, then they can't openly object to me locking myself in my room_. Picking up her book and giving everyone a friendly smile, she left the room. She tried not to leave _too_ quickly, but as soon as she reached the stairs Hermione all but sprinted up to her room.

Once there, she was lost in the irritation of how they had been hovering before she'd escaped. She needed to clear her mind, and for Hermione there was little better than research to achieve that goal. She still had a mystery to solve, after all. Casting a locking spell on her door and going quickly to the trunk at the foot of her bed, Hermione began to pull out of the books she'd bought recently and the papers she'd inherited from Leda. After locating a few blank pieces of muggle paper and a pen, Hermione was ready to begin.

She opened one of the books, _The Limitations of Divination_, to chapter three where she had left off before and began reading.

_Chapter III: Dark Technique Variations_

_The realm of a witch or wizard's magic can be powerful beyond comprehension, but limited to the present and the past. It has been implied by some of the darker Diviners that in order to see into the future one must open themself up to other techniques entirely._

_Most deny that such techniques are ancient muggles tactics, and it has gone so far as to be implied by one Leda Atreus that the methods date back to the time of Merlin. In Atreus' estimation, that makes them neither muggle nor wizard as they come from a time when the two cultures were further intertwined. She is highly regarded in the darker circles, and it is said that she prefers the art of non-magical fire scrying, one of the ancient methods, well over any other._

_Another popular technique among these darker circles is that of summoning the dead, as with the muggle séance. In most wizarding circles, it is, of course, considered highly dark to do anything that would bring to you anyone who has already crossed over to the afterlife. However, many diviners have taken up the technique with claims that those things learned from a séance are invaluable. Dante Yaxley, another diviner well respected in darker circles, has written a rather lengthy treatise on séance techniques that can be found in _A History of Dark Foresight.

That was enough to convince Hermione that there was something important to be found from these texts. She was learning from experience that her former distaste for Divination was likely the combination of Leda's spellwork and Trelawney's incompetence. Now she was learning to trust her instincts more thoroughly, and it looked as if those instincts were paying off. This book referred to Leda, but also to one of the Yaxleys. From Hermione's research, Leda's mother was Isabella Yaxley, making Dante quite possibly a distant relation.

Could it be that her entire family was skilled in Divination and not just Leda? Did that mean Hermione would have the same talent if she were to pursue it? She was beginning to think she would, given that her subconscious had warned her to purchase _A History of Dark Foresight_ though she knew nothing of it at the time, and now she found she would need it to look up Dante's treatise. Yes, it was a small thing, but eventually the smallest of things could add up into something monumental.

Perhaps it was something to be pursued.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It had taken awhile to find the nerve. Hermione had spent a couple hours reading further, and taking notes, but couldn't get past the idea of testing out her own skills in Divination. Each technique she read about, especially those dark ones connected to Leda or Dante, seemed to call to her and beg that she use them. But she needed someone with her, too afraid to work the unfamiliar magic on her own.

_Gods, Lucius,_ she thought, _I need you here_. It was hopeless, she knew, as there was no way to safely contact him at this point. It didn't change matters though. She still wanted him there. Partly because as much as she believed Remus would keep her secret, she knew he would stand in her way if he thought she would actually _use_ the dark magic. Lucius, however, would help her with her experimentation if that is what it took to satisfy her, and he would do everything to protect her during the process. _Lucius, Lucius, Lucius,_ she thought repeatedly, as if the sound of his name in her mind would ease the pain of missing him. It had only been a few days, but she was concerned for his safety. The fact that she was hidden away in Order headquarters, comparatively safe, only made her concern for him that much greater.

She was startled by the loud pop of someone apparating into the room. Looking up, she saw a beautifully comforting yet irritating sight. Grabbing her wand to put up silencing charms around her room, Hermione was barely able to contain her anger. "Lucius Malfoy! What the hell are you doing here? How did you apparate here?"

Her anger seemed to go straight over his head, and he just removed his cloak and walked over to sit beside her. "And here I was thinking you'd be happy to see me," he said with a pout. "I could have sworn I heard you screaming my name repeatedly, and not even in the interesting way."

Hermione felt her face lose all color and her eyes widen. "You...heard... but how?"

"I told you the necklace I gave you would allow me to know if you were in danger," Lucius said gently. "Although I will admit to being slightly confused as I didn't think it would warn me by hearing your voice nor do I see you in any danger here. It's certainly not how the necklace worked when you were at the Manor last."

"I... I wasn't in danger. I was just... I may have somewhat wished you were here and started worrying about you. I was thinking your name," she said, voice scarcely above a whisper.

"Ah," he replied, as if the single syllable was an explanation to everything.

"Ah?" Hermione prompted.

"It would seem," he began, shifting in an uncharacteristically uncomfortable manner, "that we have developed a psychological connection that allowed me to hear you and, presumably, you would be able to hear me if I tried hard enough. It would also seem that the spells in your necklace allow me to apparate to you at any time, and not just when you are in danger."

"Which reminds me, Lucius," she said angrily. "You can't just apparate here on a whim. For one thing, you could be caught by my friends, and for another, it makes me feel as though I'm jeopardizing my friends safety by giving you that opportunity."

Lucius sighed and took her face between his hands, looking her steadily in the eyes. "Hermione, listen to me. I will never, ever, use what we have like that. If the Dark Lord wins, then it will be done without using our connection to aid him."

She nodded, seeming to accept his words. "Well, as long as you are here, maybe you can help me with something. Assuming you have time, that is."


	18. Chapter 18

It didn't take long for Hermione to finish explaining to Lucius just what she had in mind. About halfway through the explanation he developed the sort of patient grin that she would have expected him to use on a child, but she completely ignored it.

"What do you think?" she asked him finally.

"I'm surprised," he said, taking a moment before he continued. "I am perfectly willing to help you, but I never really expected you to pursue something like this. Divination, perhaps, but what you are studying is considered dark magic by most wizards and you always seemed against dark magic."

Hermione smiled and shrugged slightly. "I've had plenty of time to consider some of Leda's words, and I think I have her letters memorized. She warned me not to make the mistake of assuming everything dark to be inherently evil. That there are times for both light and dark magics and that it is your intent, not method, that is of the greatest importance. When I first read the letter, I thought she was just making excuses for it, but now I've begun to understand. She was right."

"She had a better view on it than most dark wizards, then," said Lucius. "Her words are true, but the sort of truth that most people never realize. Because of the stigmas attached, there are very few who pursue dark magic without having dark intent. To me honest, I'm not sure I've ever had good intent when using it either. I think sometimes you are a good influence on me, Hermione, but that doesn't change who I am and what I've done in the past. I've never been one to feel ashamed, but a part of me is because I hate knowing that while I'm out there doing my nefarious deeds, you are fully aware of it."

"I prefer not to think about it. Yes, I know the sort of things you do, but I think in the back of my mind I'm still pretending it's not true. I'm very well aware of the fact that I could force you through the Vow to change loyalties," she said with a grimace, "but I'm not willing to do it. Without it being of your own free will it matters little to me."

Lucius smiled slightly, but in his eyes he seemed almost lost in thought. "Let's do as you wanted, Hermione, and look into the fire. There will be time enough to discuss my soul later, even if there is no saving it."

Hermione wasn't thrilled about Lucius' wording, but she left it alone. Something about his mood had altered, and she doubted any good would come of pushing it. Besides, she was nothing if not practical, and she knew that the chances of Lucius Malfoy changing his ways were rather minimal. So she lazily used her wand to accio a couple candles and lit them on a table beside her bed. A little shifting around later and she found herself relaxing against Lucius with the candles straight in front of her.

"Don't just look at them and try to find shapes," Lucius said softly. "Relax first. Clear your mind before you ever turn it to the fire."

She chose not to ask him how exactly he was familiar with fire scrying, but it piqued her interest nonetheless. Clearing her mind was something she wasn't used to doing, and it took several minutes before she felt that she had done a half decent job of it. Hermione felt strangely relaxed, as though every part of her body had gone limp. Allowing herself to then look at the flames, it seemed as though her subconscious was beginning to guide her actions. She looked not at them, but passed them, not really focusing on anything in particular. She felt disconnected, and yet in tune with everything around her.

When she stopped looking for images, then images began to appear. Hermione wasn't sure if they were in her mind or in the flames themselves, but she knew they were important. The images were mostly blurry and changed frequently, giving her scarcely enough time to study one before seeing the next. Words came unbidden to her mind, answering questions she hadn't known she had. Finally, after some time of it, the images ceased and Hermione was left with a peaceful emptiness.

"Anything interesting?" Lucius prompted, though he was certain there must be quite a few things of interest she had seen. While he held her he had felt the changes in pulse, how her breathing went from steady to erratic, and the random stiffening of her body. He wouldn't press her for every detail, though, because he understood that not all in divination could be taken at face value or understood immediately.

"Many things," she said, "though I can't seem to recall all of it and don't know what to make of the rest. There is very little I feel certain of, but I'm glad I tried it. I think that with time I might yet make a Diviner, and I think that would have made Leda proud. Even if I never become so skilled as she."

It wasn't a matter of what she did or didn't learn through the scrying, but how it left her feeling. There was a feeling of power, to be sure, but Hermione felt more peaceful than anything. The part of her that had been stressing out about how the war might go was temporarily soothed, as was that part of her that held certain feelings for Lucius. What those feelings were she wasn't ready to think about, but she didn't feel the need to worry about it for the time being. She would do as she must, learn what she could, and hopefully whatever horrors Leda had seen would be avoided.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucius returned to the Death Eater's camp with strengthened resolve. Gone was the man who cared for nothing but power, ignoring what fate such actions might have in store for him and his family. That cold, power-hungry part of him had barely been holding on recently, but watching Hermione's scrying and the beautiful, peaceful expression on her face had broken it finally. He wanted that serenity for himself, and for his son.

Ideally, the situation was with Hermione by his side, and Narcissa pursuing her own happiness elsewhere, but Lucius was a realistic man. The women in his life he couldn't do anything about, but he could do what he could to get himself and Draco out of this mess.

It was with this in mind that he went in search of the one man he could think of that might help him. It was a risk to test his theory, to see if his intuition would prove correct, but there was only one person who would understand his desire to change. It wasn't like he could just walk right up to the Order's headquarters and offer his aid – he'd be killed on sight. And he refused to drag Hermione into it. No, it was better this way.

Severus Snape was easily found in his lab at Hogwarts. It was what he did, when he wasn't reading, to make use of his time. To say that Severus Snape was a man in need of a different hobby would be an understatement, although Lucius had secretly thought for some time that the hobby Severus needed was in fact a wife. Regardless, his bachelor status worked out well when Lucius needed something.

"To what do I owe this visit, Lucius?" asked Severus, still bent over his cauldron, stirring in the mixture steadily.

Lucius grinned slightly. He should have known Severus' wards would identify any visitor; the man was too obsessed with developing new potions or spells. "I need to ask you something important, Severus. Is there any chance we can be heard?"

"No," was Severus' short response. The stirring continued.

"I need you do help me join the Order. I want to get Draco and I out of this."

The stirring stopped. Severus muttered a quick stasis charm under his breath and turned to face Lucius. "Is that so?" he asked in his customary drawl. "You seem terribly certain of my true affiliation being with the Order. How do you know I won't go straight to the Dark Lord with this?"


	19. Chapter 19

_Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading/reviewing this! I love everyone's encouragement, and it really does get those muses working for me._

_Just a quick note in response to a review I got from Joycy (and I wanted to be able to tell everyone)... this is not a dark fic, nor does Hermione become dark in it. If you like those, then I'm just not going to be able to fulfill that here. If you don't, then don't worry, it's not going to be like that. But whether light vs. dark equals good vs. bad is an important part of the story. You have to understand how Hermione's perception of it changes to understand how she and Lucius become so attracted to one another. ;)_

* * *

Lucius felt his breath catch in the back of his throat and his heart begin to race. Did he really know Severus as well as he thought? And did it matter? This was his chance to fix things. If he was wrong, and Severus was truly in the service of the Dark Lord... of Voldemort... then he was really only sacrificing himself. Draco hadn't known he was coming, and didn't have to be implicated. The risk to himself was well worth what stood to be gained. "I know you, Severus. I have ever since we were little boys here at Hogwarts. A part of you died when Lily was killed, and I know you better than to think your loyalties would be left undamaged after it. I know you would thirst for revenge, and rightly so."

"Time changes a man," was Severus' only response. His voice was even, betraying no emotion. To anyone not knowing the subject of the conversation, the man who had spent so much of his life as a Potions Professor could just as easily be lecturing one of his students.

"Not you," said Lucius emphatically. "I know you better than that, and you know it too. I am a desperate man, and I need your help."

Severus sighed and nodded after a moment. "Very well, Lucius. I will go to the Order on your behalf. I will see what can be arranged for the protection of you and your family after all of this."

At that Lucius was finally able to release the breath he didn't know he was holding.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"_In the dream I see a young girl who drinks something that, somehow, I know to be a polyjuice potion. She then turns into a kitten, of all the absurd things, and begins stalking the halls of Hogwarts. In the dungeons she encounters a small green garden snake, such as would never be considered a threat save by those who fear all snakes simply because they are snakes. The two circle each other, hissing at one another in their own way, and then the scene changes. It is now a forest, but all the trees are on fire. The kitten has now become a lion and the garden snake a cobra. They still circle, but then suddenly they turn away from one another and face the forest. It is strange, but almost as if they are protecting each other's backs. The harder I look, the stranger the scene becomes, and I see flashes of chains binding them or limbs that for a moment look human. When I try to focus on those details though, they fade away. Some nights the chains seem to break, and the serpent and lion go separate ways. Those nights I see the fire consume them. Other nights they stay together and seem to consume the fire, although in waking hours it is extremely hard to explain how they manage that."_

Hermione awoke with strengthened resolve, as well as strengthened panic. That constant dread of what could happen and the overwhelming drive to be prepared for anything had once more dug its claws into her with ruthless force.

The words of Leda's first letter came back to her with a vengeance. She'd dreamt that very dream. Leda's dream. Now she was even more certain she was overlooking things. She pulled that letter out once more, examining every last word.

"_...the jewelry is family heirlooms that I wish for your use and nothing else. You may find certain pieces to be of magical assistance, but I will leave that to your own discovery... With the gold key and this letter there should also be a pearl necklace with a single silver and emerald serpent charm... It will announce your identity to your allies, even when you are unaware of them..."_

She really could have banged her head against the wall at that point, she felt so stupid. How could the brilliant Gryffindor with perfects grades that always got the Golden Trio out of any disaster have been so completely and utterly useless?

_Uggghhhh..._

It was perfect. So perfect. And spelled out so clearly. Yet Miss Brilliant hadn't even noticed it. She examined every piece of paper, figured out the charm on the necklace she'd had since childhood, but never had she thought to examine the _other_ pieces of jewelry left to her by Leda. And the pearl necklace – what did she mean it would announce her identity to her allies?

_Bloody fucking hell._

She grabbed the small wooden chest in which she had been keeping the jewelry and raced down the halls of 12 Grimmauld Place, skidding to a stop on her sock-covered feet once reaching the library.

"Remus! Oh, hey Tonks," she colored slightly at her own behavior, and considered waiting until later for secrecy's sake, but was too damned impatient. Besides, it didn't prove anything other than she had a ton of old jewelry. "I need someone to examine this who would know what to look for. I think some of these have magical properties, and I only know a few testing methods."

Tonks was laughing at her, unafraid to make a point of how incredibly foolish she had looked. Hadn't exactly been graceful either, but then again, Tonks couldn't say much about that part.

Remus took one look at the jewelry and sighed. "Brilliant timing, Hermione. Moody is in the kitchen. He would probably be the best here for looking at it, though I might be able to think of a friend or two in Knockturn Alley that would know more. I just don't know if you want to be taking these things there."

"Thanks Remus," Hermione said. "Um... you two... err... carry on."

Unless she was very much mistaken, she could have sworn she saw those two quickly putting space between them when she walked in the room. Then again, she had been distracted, so perhaps it wasn't what it had looked like. _Though I think it was _exactly_ what it looked like..._

Filing that detail away for later, Hermione went to locate Moody. She gave a brief and entirely truthful explanation of the jewelry's origin, knowing that the best way to lie was to stay as close to the truth as possible. Lying by omission really was the safest thing when you had to lie. He may have suspected that there was a great deal more to the story than she was mentioning, but since he knew of no reason for concern he left it alone. Constant vigilance was all well and good, but there was a point at which discretion was a higher virtue.

Through a number of charms completely unrecognized by Hermione, he managed to identify the properties of a few. Two had a variation of a disillusionment charm on them, which he suggested might very well work like an invisibility cloak. "Probably not as well," he had amended, "but sometimes you don't need such drastic measures. If people aren't looking for you to be there, a lesser charm can work just as well and be harder to track."

It was when he lifted out a delicate silver circlet, ornate but not quite broad enough to be called a diadem, that his good eye widened and his mad eye twitched. "Now where did you get this, missy?" he asked gruffly.

"It's a family heirloom," Hermione explained simply. "Apparently someone in my family was a witch, and it eventually got passed down to me."

She knew at that point that he knew there was much she left out, and he knew she knew it, but as he words were evidently the truth he remained somewhat satisfied. "This, missy, magnifies the wearer's magic. Put it on, apply some form of a sticking charm to make sure it doesn't fall off, and any spell you cast will be stronger because of it. How strong of a magnification depends on the skill of the one who made this, but it is strong because I can feel the magic in it."

Moody set a candle before her. "Put the thing on and then cast a simple spell to light it. Something you've used before, that you know the strength of."

Nodding, Hermione cast the first practical fire spell that came to mind. It was the same one she always used when lighting a candle or a fire, and she put only enough force in it for the purpose of a candle. The moment the candle lit, she jumped back. Flame rose quickly from the candle, so far into the air that it seemed like a dragon's breath. Moody quickly cast a charm to extinguish it before it could harm the ceiling permanently, and then another to remove the black circle that had been burned into it.

Hermione's hand rose to trace the shape of the circlet she wore, and for a moment all they could do was stare at each other in surprise.


	20. Chapter 20

"Now wait one minute, Missy," said Moody when a stupid grin had found its way to my face. "This isn't a fairy tale. It's not an all powerful thing that will rid the world of evil. Every object that strengthens magic has its limitations. You don't know anything about the purpose for which it was made, nor do you know how strong certain spells would be through using it. For now, it could very well cause more harm than anything to count on. Constant vigilance means more than just watching those around you for betrayal. It also means watching yourself for foolish decisions or assumptions."

Hermione started to deny having let her imagination run away with her, but couldn't. Not convincingly anyway. It was yet another topic on a growing list to research, a list so long she was beginning to have mixed feelings about it. "Point taken," she said, almost meekly. There were only a handful of people that could still make Hermione feel like a little child, and Alastor Moody was one of them.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lucius Malfoy was visibly nervous. He could keep his doubts hidden from even the Dark Lord if he put effort into it, and yet the prospect of joining the Order was enough to throw him off entirely. He caught Severus smirking slightly out of the corner of his eye and for a split second wondered why he'd been stupid enough to think this a good idea.

A figure stepped into the light of the dimly lit room Severus had arranged for the meeting, a setting altogether too cliché in Lucius' mind. It's dark hand rose to pull down the hood of the figure's cloak, revealing Kingsley Shacklebolt, and another, more delicate hand revealed the form of Nymphadora Tonks. She grinned, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "Wotcher, Malfoy. Or should I call you 'uncle'?"

"Miss Nymphadora," Lucius said politely, nodding his head in greeting. He hadn't known her during her youth as they no longer spoke to Andromeda, but he still liked to keep tabs on his family members.

"Tonks," she corrected him quickly, grinning as her hair went through various shades of red and blue until she finally settled on a dark shade of purple.

"Certainly, Tonks," Lucius said, correcting himself. "Now... What must I do to prove myself?"

He wasn't exactly used to getting laughed at, but by the end of the meeting he was learning that laughter was a part of being on the "good" side. At his question Tonks and Shacklebolt had both laughed, and Severus had smirked. "We aren't like Voldemort," said Shacklebolt, "we don't ask you to take a mark or bind yourself by magic. It's simple, we trust you as much as you prove to us you can be trusted. Anything you learn, pass on to Severus, and he will send it on to the rest of the Order. As we trust you more, we will give you more information on various ways of contacting us, and you will be more informed of Order happenings."

They had spoken somewhat more before leaving, exchanging prior knowledge. Lucius was able to fill in a few gaps on events where either Severus had not been present or had simply not thought about mentioning. By the end of it Lucius not only was getting used to laughter, he was also feeling more at ease and less like a traitor. Though he'd been confident in his decision, a part of him had worried that it made him as much of a blood traitor as he had always cruelly called people like Andromeda and the Weasleys. He didn't feel that way at all now. If anything, he was coming even closer to feeling that mysterious thing called peace.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Weeks passed and again they didn't see each other. Hermione wanted to see him, but was still torn over the existence of his _wife._ Lucius missed her, but wasn't sure whether or not to tell her he had switched sides, not wanting her to worry more, and knew that if he saw her it would inevitably come out.

Late one night Hermione found herself tossing and turning in her bed, unable to sleep peacefully. She kept dreaming of Lucius, surrounded by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It was like a replay of the same scene, over and over, with the details changing slightly each time.

_At first she saw Lucius bowing before Voldemort, his face cool and collected. Voldemort spoke, though she could not quite catch the words, and Lucius bowed his head lower before getting up and leaving. She saw a battlefield covered in Death Eaters and Order members, all fighting a battle that seemed to have no winner, only losers. _

That part seemed true enough. Though much was at stake in the war against Voldemort, the death toll and the suffering of those who might yet survive was such that it didn't seem that anyone would really come out of it ahead. If anything, one side might manage to come out just less injured, but not really ahead.

_She saw herself amongst them, casting spells as quickly as she could, not seeing the figure of a tall Death Eater with flowing blonde hair sneaking up behind her. Not seeing that figure aim his wand at her, or the thick jet of brilliant green light that was coming her way._

In a normal nightmare, this would be the point where she woke abruptly and found herself covered in sweat, breathing heavy and reaching for her wand. But this was not a normal nightmare, and she was trapped by the images before her.

_Each time Lucius' behavior changed slightly, though the end result remained the same. Until the last, when as Lucius crept up silently behind her and raised his wand arm to aim at her, his body froze and fell in its place. She was safe, and he was... she didn't know._

After that the images were cut off, and she seemed to float in a mist that reminded her of the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. She heard a voice, a strong but melodical feminine voice that she couldn't help but identify with Leda.

"_Now you see, dear Hermione. How could I let my line end so tragically when it was within my power to stop it? And at the hand of a family I care about so much? I am far too selfish for that. Remember, my daughter, that the Malfoys have hearts of gold, if you can break through the ice."_

At this point she did wake from her slumber, bolting upright and looking around as though she half expected Leda to be there with her. She hoped that in spirit, at least, Leda was. She didn't know how that inevitable battle would end, and so she wouldn't yet know the meaning of Leda's words, but now at least she was certain of when the all important final battle would be. Scrambling to her feet, she ran out the door in search of someone to tell of her dream. In the back of her mind she wondered if anyone but her would trust in her dream, but she knew that all she could do was try.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_A/N: We are coming closer and closer to the end of this story. There are only two, maybe three, more chapters left to the conclusion, and one of those is already written. Thanks so much to everyone who has been leaving me such encouragement in the two months since I began posting the story on this site. : )_


	21. Chapter 21

Morning came and Hermione found herself as prepared as she could ever be. She had spoken to prominent Order members and her dream, so much as she could reveal of it, had only been confirmed.

By all indications, today would be the day when either Voldemort or Harry, if not both, lost their lives. She had worked for so long, aiding Harry in his search for Horcruxes, doing research at every possible moment for ways to protect herself and her friends. She'd worried over everyone, now including two Death Eaters, one who she loved and another who was the son of the man she loved.

Her thoughts were organized as far as what to do and in what order, what she needed with her, and what she needed to make sure everyone else had with them. As far as her emotions, though, she was a chaotic wreck. But what could be done for it? It wasn't as if she really thought herself deserving of pity, as everyone had their own difficult situation to deal with. The Muggle philosopher, Plato, had said once to be kind, because everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. Hermione believed it, even if sometimes she found it difficult to be equally kind to everyone.

She kept herself busy up until the last possible moment, unwilling to allow her mind any more stray thoughts than necessary. She knew that certain things were not worth worrying about just yet, as there was really nothing she could do about them. But sometimes things are easier said than done, and it was beyond her ability to block out her fears.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It was a long and terrible day in Hermione's eyes, and the worst was yet to come. In the Room of Requirement they had encountered Draco with his two idiot sidekicks, Crabbe and Goyle. Each trio fired hexes quickly at the other, though Hermione focused her efforts on shielding herself and hexing the two idiots. Meanwhile, Draco's curses towards her had seemed too easy to dodge by half. And though she couldn't explain the certainty with which she read him, there seemed a look in his eyes that held both hatred and apology. What she was to make of that was beyond her at the moment, but it was shocking at the very least.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

After that ordeal, the Golden Trio had been forced to witness Voldemort order the death of Severus Snape at the fangs of Nagini. Hermione didn't find herself helpless to aid him, though. When all was done, she moved in to undo what she might. The kitten of Leda's visions had indeed become a lioness, and she was more than able to counter a snake or two.

Hermione had hopes that Severus still lived, as she had snuck in to make sure he had a bezoar and plenty of replenishing potions, but there had only been so much time to act before she had to get back to the battle. Hoping and praying meant nothing without action to go with it.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Hermione had found herself in the midst of battle, surrounded by Death Eaters and Order members and all those bystanders who had joined a side for this battle. If it had been a line of people against another line it would have been one thing, but in the midst of battle Hermione was very much afraid an imperfectly cast curse might cost someone she cared about their life.

It was beyond stressful, the weight on her shoulders that only got heavier with each course of action she took. Her hair came undone and flew in her face, bodies ran in front of one another blocking a target from view, and the constant attempt to watch each other's backs for curses to shield against was taxing.

She'd already known there would be no winners, but now Hermione realized that when this was all over all she wanted was a quiet place to cry her eyes out.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Once more Hermione encountered Draco in battle, both casting hex after hex, the sort that would do no deadly damage, and each managing to miss the other by mere inches. It was like a perilous dance in which neither partner admitted to their movements, but each knew the danger they faced should the other choose to attack in earnest.

Hermione was no fool. Somehow Draco knew who she was, if not in entirety, and he would watch her back despite being her enemy. He would see her safety at the cost of all else. Never in her wildest dreams, though, would Hermione have expected that price to be what it was.

As they cast all sorts of hexes and jinxes at one another -- babbling curses, impediment jinxes, and tickling charms -- they finally grew tired of the charade. Draco dropped his wand slightly to pursue another target, and Hermione turned her attention to aid Harry. As she swung around and caught Voldemort in her field of vision, she saw him glare in Draco's direction. The "Dark Lord" seemed aware of his young Death Eater's ploy, and had no sympathy for it.

A jet of brilliant green light flew from the tip of Voldemort's wand, straight towards a helpless Draco. Hermione lacked time to act, but there was another who had seen their Lord's intention with opportunity to act. A lithe, strong figure with golden hair sprung in between them, catching the curse to her heart.

Draco's face became a mix of despair and rage, and he turned to the battle with new energy, no longer pretending to support the followers of Lord Voldemort.

Narcissa Malfoy was dead.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

So much had occurred that would take Hermione years to recover from, if she ever really did. Yet fate was not quite finished with her. There came the moment that made her feel as though her heart had truly stopped, and though she'd seen it in her dreams, she was not prepared.

Lord Voldemort turned to his faithful servant, Lucius Malfoy, who bowed before the serpent like man. Voldemort seemed furious, but Lucius remained his perfect mask of dangerous calm. Amidst the screams of pain from throughout the field, Hermione had no hope of hearing Voldemort's order.

This time, though, Hermione didn't continue in her fighting. She shielded herself, but was scarcely able to tear her eyes of Lucius long enough to do that much. She was paralyzed with a fear not relating to her life, but the greater fear that Lucius' love for her might not be enough to overcome his devotion to his Dark Lord.

There was no sneaking up behind her or really any movement for his part. As soon as the words left Voldemort's mouth, and his wand swished in accompaniment to them, Lucius' body froze. Unable to control his form, Lucius' body fell over onto the ground. It didn't collapse as a normal person would upon injury, but was rigid and toppled over as a falling chess piece.

Hermione had known that they were all but pawns in a larger game, but looking back on the moment she would later think how Lucius was the only piece that mattered to her at that moment. He was like the king, a piece to be protected at all costs. Whether she could claim the power of queen was yet to be seen, but she would not allow her heart to be placed in checkmate. The game was not over until the last possible move was made, and from where Hermione stood she had plenty moves left to make.

_She was safe, and he was... she didn't know._

She intended to find out, and take down as many of the enemy as possible in the process.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

When she saw the paler than death form of Severus Snape that evening, lingering amongst the shadowed edges of the celebrating multitude, she ran to him. Lucius' body was missing, and if Severus had managed to come back from the brink of death then perhaps he would have some news for her. Some hope, some promise.

He did better than that, really. He told her exactly where to find Lucius' body, and everything that had occurred after his paralyzed fall.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_A/N: I only do long battle scenes in selected cases -- otherwise it seems like everything is just dragging on and on and on. I could have written such a scene, but would never have been satisfied with it. Hopefully the flow of my attempt to avoid that fate works as planned._

_Only another chapter or two to go, and all will be explained. (Hopefully!) If you have specific questions that you want answers to, feel free to leave them in a review and I'll try to make sure everything becomes clear in the end. ; )_

_Love you guys!_


	22. Chapter 22

"Miss Granger," Snape said gravely. "Thank you for what you have done for me. But for now, I need your help. Lucius confided in me regarding certain things, and it has led me to believe you might be able to help him."

"You know where he is?" Hermione asked quickly, her eyes wide and hopeful. Her breath caught as she anxiously waited for his answer.

"He's in my chambers in the dungeon," said Snape. "I got him away from the battle as soon as I saw an opening. He's not responding though."

"Take me to him," she all but ordered, half running towards the dungeons without waiting for his reply.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Lucius... Lucius, talk to me," said Hermione desperately. She searched his face for any sign of recognition but could find none. Severus Snape had managed to keep Lucius from any more harm, knowing that whatever was wrong with him would need to be dealt with before the Ministry needed to know Lucius Malfoy's location, but whatever Voldemort had done to him was not fading away. Lucius was sitting in a chair, staring mindlessly at the wall.

"He seems to be under the Imperius," said Snape, standing beside her. "I tried what I could on him but to no avail. I don't know what entirely was done to him, but we have to find something else to end it."

"Why was it done, Professor?" she asked.

"The Dark Lord gave orders which Lucius refused," he told her, somewhat reluctantly. "There was no time to waste with Crucios, nor time to find someone else for the task, so the Dark Lord put an Imperius on him to ensure his cooperation."

"What were his orders?" asked Hermione.

"He was to find you during the battle and ensure your death. The Dark Lord feared that if you remained alive you would be a means Potter's victory."

"Oh no..." said Hermione, realization dawning. Snape didn't know of her past, or the entirety of Lucius' ties to it. He had attempted to end the Imperius without any hope of doing so, because it wasn't the Imperius itself that caused Lucius to be in such a state. "My family have been muggles for a couple generations now," she told Snape quickly, trying to summarize as much as possible. "But my great-great-grandmother was a highly skilled witch. Before her death she ensured that the Malfoy line was under an Unbreakable Vow to do anything I ask as a daughter of hers. He considers himself bound to protect me, and I'm afraid that the wording of the Vow and that of Voldemort's instructions with the Imperius has caused a conflict in him. He is in a limbo of sorts, his magic unsure which way it must go."

Snape opened his mouth to inquire further, but Hermione waved him off as she knelt down beside Lucius. "Lucius Malfoy," she said firmly. "I, Hermione Granger and a daughter of Leda, call on your Vow to throw off the effect of the Imperius and return to your normal state. Voldemort is dead and you no longer have any duty to do as he commands."

Lucius blinked, though for a moment his eyes remained transfixed and clouded as they had been before. Then the cloud faded, and once again Hermione was looking at the cold, calculating grey of Lucius Malfoy's eyes. He turned towards her and his expression seemed to hold warmth, his mouth curving into a smile. "Hermione..."

"I suppose this isn't the best time to ask what is going on?" asked Snape dryly from his spot across the room.

"Not just now, my old friend," said Lucius without taking his eyes of Hermione, "although I will inform you of all the details at a later time. I must, however, inquire after Narcissa."

Snape coughed, clearing his throat before he spoke. "She died in the battle, Lucius."

Hermione's happy expression faded at the mention of Narcissa, though she had to admit to herself that she had no right to be bothered by it. She was, after all, Lucius' wife. Or had been.

"In that case, although I am sorry to hear about the death of my son's mother, it means I am free to do something I very much need to do. You will have your explanations later, Severus. For now, might I use your floo?"

Snape nodded, saying nothing but studying Lucius carefully.

Lucius went took Hermione's hand and they walked over to the fireplace. He stated their destination, and motioned for Hermione to go first. "After you, my lady." She looked at him strangely for a moment, then complied.

He followed her through and immediately blocked the floo for any more visitors. He had brought them to one of the Malfoy vacation homes, one where he knew they would be reasonably safe to stay for several days if needed. They needed to talk, but at that moment his body's needs seemed more pressing. Lucius pulled her to him and kissed her hungrily, his hands exploring her body in a need to know every inch of her.

Hermione relaxed into his arms, only to pull away a moment later. "Lucius, wait."

He looked into her eyes. "Hermione, I know we need to talk. We need to figure all of this out. But I need you. I've needed you so long, and after all of this I need you even more."

"I won't deny you," she told him. "But there is something you need to know first. Narcissa. It's all my fault."

"What do you mean?" he asked, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear.

"In the battle," she said carefully. "I was dueling Draco. I didn't want to hurt him, and he didn't seem to want to hurt me. We didn't know Voldemort was watching in the distance, and when he saw Draco lower his wand... Narcissa blocked the curse meant for Draco. It's all my fault. If he hadn't seemed to protect me, it wouldn't have happened. Narcissa wouldn't be..."

"Shh..." said Lucius, holding her. "Hush, darling. It's not your fault. If she hadn't died that way, there is still no certainty she wouldn't have died in the battle. Draco wouldn't have hurt you, but he couldn't let others know that. Draco was really the only one in her life she truly loved, and Narcissa would have wanted her death to be in protection of him. You can't blame yourself for a curse another cast."

"But it was cast because of me," she said between her tears. "How can I let you kiss me when I know I'm at fault for the death of your wife?"

"Hermione, listen to me. It wasn't your fault. Don't make me lose the woman I love along with my son's mother because you can't forgive yourself."

"What do you mean, Lucius?"

"I love you, Hermione. I didn't refuse the Dark Lord's orders because of the Vow. I refused because I love you and nothing would have been worth carrying out his orders. Nothing. Did you really think I was lying to you when I've spoke of my love for you in the past?"

"But what if..."

Lucius kissed her again, not allowing her to finish her sentence. This time she didn't stop him, and he quickly led her to a bed so that their first time together in so long wouldn't end up on the floor or a couch. If anything her tears only made him want her more. He wanted to erase them with pure bliss.

Normally Lucius would have taken his time with her, made her crazy with want in return. But there would be time for that later, and he needed her too badly. A quick motion with his hand and their clothes vanished, reappearing on a chair in the corner of the room. They fell onto the bed, Hermione's hips rising against Lucius as he laid on top of her. He entered her with a finger and heard her gasp. Then two fingers worked their way in and out of her until they were soaked in her arousal.

"Now, Lucius, please..."

He didn't take the time to tease her with questions, asking what exactly it was she wanted. He slipped his body further between her legs and slowly inched his way inside of her. She moaned, arching her hips up to take him more fully inside of her. He hissed, trying to control his own reaction to the sensation.

As he adjusted to the feeling of her, he began to thrust faster, telling himself with each thrust that she was his. That she would always be his, and he would be the only man to touch her. Her fingernails dug into his back, and eager lips assaulted his neck and shoulders at each opportunity.

When they had finished the two curled up together under the blankets, laying as close to one another as they could manage. They knew now, like they had never been sure of before, that there would be time for talking later.


	23. Epilogue

Hermione walked amongst the shadows in the cool night air, allowing herself to unwind in the beauty of the gardens. She loved them, just as the former lady of the house had loved them, and likely every lady before her. Her palm rested on her stomach, happiness filling her as she felt the earliest curves of pregnancy beginning to show themselves.

It was All Hallow's Eve, and Hermione was enjoying the temporary peace of the night. So much had happened since the Battle of Hogwarts, and life was just beginning to feel normal again. Both Lucius and Draco escaped Azkaban for having switched sides at the end, though both father and son were under a sort of house arrest for two years. Neither minded, though, as it was far better than the other option of Azkaban.

Lucius seemed particularly happy with the arrangement, as it gave him every excuse to spend time with Hermione. She and Lucius had married in a small, private ceremony in July, as soon as they felt his troubles with the law had been settled.

Now, three months later, public response to their marriage was beginning to die down and just this morning Hermione had realized she carried a child within her. She hadn't told Lucius yet, not sure of the best way to say it, though she was certain he'd be thrilled.

As she turned a corner in the gardens, Hermione gasped and came to an abrupt stop on the path. Before her, bright and ethereal, was a tall woman with a joyful expression across her face. "My dearest child," she said, and I quickly recognized the melodical voice that I had heard only a couple times before. "If only I were still flesh and blood and able to embrace you."

"Leda?" Hermione asked, stunned.

"Yes, my darling," said the woman. "It is so good to be able to come to you in something other than dreams, though I don't know how long this will last."

Hermione took a step closer. "So it was you? You really did come to me that night before the battle?"

"Of course," Leda said, laughing. "You are not crazy, dear, and the images I showed you were true. They were a large part of the visions that caused me to meddle in the future. I can tell you now because your choices have already been made, and a child is growing within you."

"I remember the visions," said Hermione carefully, "but I don't know what they meant. I still don't know what would have happened had we chosen different paths."

Leda sighed and smiled sadly. "I would ask if you truly wished to hear those answers, but I know you to be too much like me not to. I saw three main possibilities, and everything else was just minor variations from those three. In one, Draco died, and the Atreus and Malfoy bloodlines ended with the two of you. In the second, you died, and Lucius and Draco spent the rest of their lives in Azkaban and the Malfoy line ended with them. The third you chose and it is what I had wished for. I told you before that I was selfish in my decision to meddle in your lives."

Hermione heard footsteps behind her and recognized the sound of Lucius, and saw Leda's eyes move towards him. "Ah, Lucius. You look every bit like the Malfoy I was once close to, just like I knew you would. Take care of my Hermione, and take care of your daughter. I look forward to having another Diviner in the family."

Leda smile seemed to brighten, but her body faded away, and soon Hermione was left alone with her husband. Lucius' arms were wrapped around her tightly, and his lips were kissing her neck just under her ear. "When do you think we will get that daughter, my lioness?"

It was Hermione's turn to smile at that. "Oh," she said, "I think we will need a name for her by April."

"Really?" he asked, surprised. He had not expected that his wife was pregnant already, but it was a pleasant surprise. "Any names in mind for her?"

"Leda."

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**Thank you to everyone who has been reading this fic, especially those who have left me all of the kind reviews throughout the four months I've been writing it. I eagerly await everyone's opinion of the last couple chapters, and I hope it has lived up to everyone's expectations.**

_**Andarte**_


	24. Author's Note

Thanks to everyone who has continued to read and review since this story's completion. This has been a particular favorite of mine to write and every review leaves me more motivated to work on future stories. For those who wanted to read more of Leda's story, I have written (since finishing Daughter of Leda) a oneshot that explains a little more background to the story. It can be found here:

www. fanfiction .net/s/4898989/1/To_Meddle_in_the_Future


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